Killing Cowboys

By Rebecca L. Morrison

I'm reduced to skeletons,

defined by the tyranny of

my mother's eyes.

With a flame cindered 'neath

my lips, I'm found amongst

cacti and ruins.

I'm fated to die a dewy fawn:

penniless and spindly,

with breath like humid Julys.

I'm justified to burden

this broken body

limb to limb,

lung to lung.

Evading the kind eyes

that warm my bed,

that rial my head

whilst I shiver

alone, alone.

I'm known to inspire

alone, alone

in the sand and canyons

that bury us whole.