← Back Published on

Wyoming

staggering

to find her way

through

the drifts of poems

she had written about

moose

and the way they

browsed the

beaver ponds

with their

velvet bone

head dresses

until the fall when they

would go to

war

for

the silk of a

cow

frances

sat down in a rocking chair

wanting to

be bandied over

so she

went to the outdoor

cinema

and sat next to

a cowboy

stinking of

dr pepper mashed

with southern comfort

and hoped he might

unearth a woman

from the clumsy

ranger clothes

she wore

but when the projector

went to clicking

and bullwinkle walked

in

frances giggled

and forgot

about brawling men

for another night