Silver
shiny metal
in
black leather holsters
and
thin strips of dotted paper
we
called caps that promised
to
explode if hit precisely right
We
were the wild west
in
fenced suburban yards
where
it was safe
to
be the wild west
Swing
sets were our forts
or
encircled wagon trains;
we
practiced being shot
and
falling over safely dead
until
the family dog sniffed
our
ears and moms called
dinnertime
and served up the grub
We
were Roy Rogers and Gene Autrey
and
Ben Cartwright and the Rifleman
and
Matt Dillon and Rawhide
and
the masked man known only
as
Kemosabe and the masked man
from
Mexico dressed in black
and
carving Z everywhere
We
remade the small screen
remade
the large screen
remade
the Caitlins and the Bodmers
and
the Remingtons and grainy photographs
and
kept the myth alive, the dream alive,
until
we matured and became
Butch
Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
until
we matured more and used
light
sabers and had sidekicks
named
Chewbacca
Over
at dVerse Poets
today, the poetry prompt is cowboy poetry, which the above poem isn’t, exactly.
But the spirit of it is close enough. To see other poems written from the prompt,
please visit dVerse
Poets.
Painting: A Dash for the Timber (1889) by
Frederic Remington.
