Barbara Wyre

We are cowboys and Indians

Chasing the woven hay bale

Flashing the trigger

In the vanilla acres of my heart.

The Nazi’s are invading

And we are buried in the

Riverbed of fantasy.

This meticulous gnawed cigar

Sizzles as it drowns, and we follow.

Swimming through the naked wheat

Stumbling on gopher homes.

It is there I my soggy racks

The keeper of the beyond

The awkward intimidator with

Clustered spikes and loose innards.

You -don’t-scare-me-never-have.

I always slither on my belly

Like a condemned sinner in paradise

Under your swords.

But this time I am courageous.

My blood levitates me to your

Iron-spun wire as I balance.

I am Cortez conquering he Aztec,

Looting your pride.

I am a trapeze artist without my trapeze.

I am content, until you collapse

And cradle me in your thorny skin.

You tear at m thigh with corroded fingers

My sweat now blood

And arrogance distilled.

I can’t destroy your memory

Flogging my rebellion to climb you.

Twin raised scares and stitches marks

Are still visible

Like fuzzy caterpillars

Forever frozen in struggle.

Next time, I’ll take the bus.

 

 

lar1998

 

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One thought on “Barbara Wyre

  1. Pingback: Ewww, Gross! «

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