The lonesome traveling cowboy wakes up one morning to a cloud of dust & just like that another

horse gone; he’s stranded; & all he can think is that he wouldn’t be had he never left home, of

course now there’s no home anymore, so anyway he’d better scrap together the cash for another

horse & fast, this time fast.

& I haven’t even finished my plea of “please don’t”

when a scream rips through my throat–

sound alone

no words– movement alone no words–

blood inside alone no words–

It’s a little funny really like once my friend broke it off with her boyfriend and he went outside

kneeled on the lawn & started ripping up grass & sobbing, like that, that’s funny, like tourists

taking pictures with french quarter horses & bothering them, like baby that horse is going to bite

you if you don’t stop fucking with him– don’t play with that horse. It’s just funny.

& now I bite down hard I bite down hard I bite down hard I bite down hard I bite down hard I

bite

through my teeth

I bite soft gums, I bite up to my cheeks.

The horse’s skin stretches thinly across

his muscled face, hides no vein.

The horse shuffles in place & smells like shit.

There’s no home anymore

but this time there’s no cash either, ah fuck

cowboy now what? My mother’s breastmilk

built what bones I’ve got

but I’m not done growing & now there’s none left.

The horse breaks.

Did you hear me?

The lonesome traveling cowboy is out of water.

The lonesome traveling cowboy’s map is out of date.

Put the camera on me.

I bite down hard on the reigns & they snap

loose & I do not move.

I do not move and I scream “move.”

I swallow blood.

The camera flashes.

–I said, did you hear me? OK louder now–

The horse breaks.

The horse breaks.

I can’t stop & I can’t keep going, says the cowboy

in grainy black & white.

I want better for you, kiddo, says the horse.

I drive on at a steady pace, & the sun sets,

the sun warms the skyline,

the skyline seems to sway–