Webb, Charles Harper

English

The Open Repository @Binghamton (The ORB)

as Black Hills gold-showering down.his bloody boots, his hair-yellowhis hands into brown earth, and raised“Watch this!” he roared, thrustknives, the Sioux braves rampaged in.as, Swinging tomahawks and scalpingtwitching at his feet. “Look!” he criedalone and laughed‚ his horse death-heard his soldiers’ shrieks. He stoodcracking, sword flailing, he barelynotes, he never flinched. Colt pistolWhen Little Big Horn blew its sourestUlysses Grant grabbed General Lee’s.with both hands, the way that drunkbetween his feet, not snatching ita conquered generafs swordlike savages. He dreamed of grippingscreeched war-cries, and prancedbronze faces breaking into grins,over his head while lndian scouts,feet dangling like a scorpion’s tajlHe walked on his hands, too,Webb 1301Webb: Custer's Last Hand-StandPublished by The Open Repository @ Binghamton (The ORB), 2014at full gallop, as his soldiers cheered.He held this posture on horseback,inVertOI-his boots were in the air.to scrutinize a track; then—presto-the West Point rear, he would stoopSent to lndian Territory after bringing upCUSTER'S LAST HAND-STAND13l2Harpur Palate: a Literary Journal, Vol. 14, Iss. 2 [2014], Art. 45https://orb.binghamton.edu/harpurpalate/vol14/iss2/45

Custer\u27s Last Hand-Stand

https://orb.binghamton.edu/context/harpurpalate/article/2114/viewcontent/HP_V14N2_130_131_Webb.pdf

Custer\u27s Last Hand-Stand

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