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Subject: poems

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Date Posted: 05:46:51 05/11/01 Fri

These are two poems I wrote about six years ago.

Jessie's Cowboys

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
the country western song recommends.
When I was seven years old cowboys were Roy
Rogers, the Lone Ranger, and other friends.

At night I lay in bed dreaming of the Badlands,
riding my cloud-white stallion bareback
feeling the muscles of his neck against my small hands
twisted in his mane, skinny legs gripping his throbbing back.

A cowboy I thought I knew always waited in the scrub-brush
in the dark night on his black horse and dragged
me off my loping horse to ride behind him, demanding I hush
my whimpering and do what I'm told when I'm tied and gagged.

At the bunkhouse I'm naked, legs spread, tied to a table
and the cowhands come join the fun when dad's no longer able.

Jessie and the Cliff People

Sometimes l'm in a valley filled with sweetgrass
and water whispering secrets passing over speckled rocks.
I wander along the sandstone cliffs until I reach an impasse
and watch clouds drifting like Snowbirds in migratory flocks.

My naked eleven year-old skin is sensitive and aware.
The sweetgrass tickles my thighs and that secret place
between my legs, until something starts to bite me there
and I look down to see my father's face.

I hear the fluttering of wings and voices calling,
Jessie, you can fly too, come with us up to the sky.
I flap my arms and feel my body rising, rising
and join the others in their cliff-homes miles high.

In the sweetgrass my father demands
Jessie, lay still or I'll tie those hands.

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[> Subject: Re: poems

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Date Posted: 01:02:07 11/02/02 Sat

[> Subject: Re: poems

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Date Posted: 18:14:09 11/20/02 Wed

a heart is not a playing thing a heart is not a toy but if you want it broken just give it to a boy

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