Andrew Jackson, our 7th president, owned
bridle reins, tanned strips of leather, carved
from the flesh of our people.
He liked to say:
I have, on all occasions, preserved
the scalps of my killed.
You kill more of us than any other race.
A white man’s mascot, he parades
on his presidential horse and likes to say: They don’t look like Indians to me.
Open your eyes.
We pay our taxes. We own
guns, wear flip-flops and tank tops.
Hunted like deer, we run and sometimes stay alive.