Mercedes Eng invokes a visceral scene of bloodshed wrought over injustice. From The Enpipe Line: 70,000 km of poetry written in resistance to the Enbridge Northern Gateway Pipelines proposal.in my dreamsthe duressthe messit don’t belong to the ladies and their peopleinsteadthe duressthe fearis yourscause my arms are just thatstrong and widethese arms blood and bonenot pipelines, not prisons, not cops, not judges, not ministriesof what-the-fuck-ever, not residential schools, not rezs, nottruth and reconciliationin my dreamsi slay you with my electric guitarmade of unceded woodpowered by woman blood and bone in earthits sonic edge reverberatesthrough tailing lakesi kill the fascist withinwhenever youtry murderof this groundand the people who own itinstead of you raping women in ancient treesand me hearing their criesyou hearmy warrior cryits sound so loud this earth shakesthe blood and bones recomposethey rallythey call warand they winthe oil rigs me and my baby brother sawas we drove all over Albertavisiting our dad in the provinces correctional facilitiesthe institutions where you house the nationi take themextraction machineriesgathered in arms of blood and boneup up upthe northern lights guide my wayand i hurl themat all the prisons that held my daddy and made me ashamedwhen people thought i was one of those brown bodiesprison industrial complex explodesbut all the right people livei write poems all over your pipelinesdirecting the oil back to the groundand the blood and bones in this groundis yoursin my dreamsi lay you motherfuckers downin my dreams