Of Hand Blooming

Blood slowly traces braided folds of his palm, unwilling to stay dormant. Nomadic. Barren erosions on his skin remind him of thirsty reservation washes, endlessly needing a flood. Gradually his blood looks symmetrical and proportionate, too perfect, like his blood knows where to go, tickling the interior of his palm. His blood splinters, breaching foreign paths, till it takes the look of veins on a fly’s wing. It looks like quick lightning flashes on a monsoon night, like splintered wood. It reminds him of cracks on concrete from war in Ar Ramadi. It spreads to the exterior of his palm, warming his skin. It begins to look wiry, like someone trying to unfold steel wool. Then it becomes accidental like the confusion of a black widow’s spider web, like Cy Twombly’s scribbles. His blood is the permanence of a shattered window. It transforms, identical to the weaving of the car crash. During this time, the quickening of dried blood collects and covers his entire palm. It becomes fragile like paint beaten by the sun. His blood curls, divides, and slowly flakes off his palm. Within these few passing seconds, he stands, surviving a deep concussion of two cars and life around him simply unfolds.

Monty J. Little is a Diné artist from Tuba City, AZ. He is Ashiihi, born for Tl’iziani. Monty is a poet, painter, and printmaker. He is studying at the Institute of American Indian Arts, and resides in Santa Fe, NM with his wife, Audra. Monty was Honorably Discharged from the United States Marine Corps in November 2008, after serving four years with Fox Company, 2nd Battalion, 5th Marine. Monty is a recipient of the 2011 Truman Capote Scholarship. His work derives from the juxtaposition of harsh realities in Indigenous contemporary issues, the beauty of openness, and the content of delicateness.

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