(nonfiction/sonnet 0) I don’t know the word for ‘word’ in Sámi
by Ron Riekki

or the word for ‘love’ or ‘grandparent’ or ‘help’
or ‘addiction’ or ‘extinction’ or ‘preparation’ or
‘erasure’ or ‘solitary’ or ‘drum-less’ or ‘forbidden’
or ‘forced sterilizations’ or ‘indigenous’ or ‘immigrant’
or ‘absent’ or ‘ignored’ or ‘dead’ or ‘suicidal ideation’
or ‘polished’ or ‘careful’ or ‘asked daily my height’
or ‘absence of any Sámi poets in the history of their
publication’ or ‘geology’ or ‘love’ or ‘loss’ or ‘vampire’
or ‘eradication’ or ‘taxon’ or ‘flushed’ or ‘what’s that?’
or ‘I’ve never heard of that’ or ‘flatulence’ or ‘dodo’
or ‘held down on the playground and punched till
a tooth ran from my mouth, escaping’ or ‘terror’
or ‘territory’ or ‘climate’ or ‘Arctic’ or ‘apathy’ or
‘take’ or ‘habitat degradation’ or ‘drank herself to death.’

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 Ron Riekki’s books include My Ancestors are Reindeer Herders and I Am Melting in Extinction (Apprentice House Press), Posttraumatic (Hoot ‘n’ Waddle), and U.P. (Ghost Road Press). Right now, he's listening to Perfume Genius' "Grid."