|
| |
His Last 8 Seconds
The only child
but favorite
of two ‘outlaws’
mare and stud
He bucked each
gelded moment
on their wild ride
of love
Until that day
he up and left
their branding iron
of pain
To wander high
and lonesome
mongst the free
and tumbling sage
In search of one
last bronc to mount
that one last
horn to make
And spur the wreckage
of his youth
as Angels
— pull the Gate
(Pendleton Round-Up: June, 1993
Elko Nevada: Cowboy Poetry Reading: January, 1994)
Copyright ©
Kurt Philip Behm
|
|