Page 71 - The Woven Tale Press Vol. Iv #8

Boot Found on the Side of the Road
A kiss at the airport— You satisfied to leave Me driving in the dark With one headlight.
Emergency bucket,
vase for a tumbleweed,
did your mate fall in love with a snake or quit you to roll off
yet another man’s bed?
Toe in the stirrup,
heel narrowed to a spur,
you rode at sunset
thinking to rest empty
under a tin roof—
rain tum tumming,
sweet cornbread, beans,
floor beneath the mattress
swept clean of spiders.
Instead you’re useless
as a peacock feather,
your diamondback leather
tossed like a stoned
hitchhiker, bent double
with laughter after posing
as the Pit Stop Killer.
Now you miss the kick
of human warmth
the way a well longs for water
or a left-handed woman,
lonely for her mirror
twin, grieves for the one
absorbed by the womb.
After a Visit
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