Little Dark-eyed Junco

photo © 2013 Jennifer Wagner

Welcome to Rubbletown,

and thanks for leaving.

Don’t let the saloon doors

hit ya on the backside on yer way out.

Rope yerself a farmer’s daughter

elsewhere—

cuz the sheriff here does all the ropin’

of the choicest stock.

He gets a cut down at

The Delmonico,

making fodder for Madame Maynard’s

…err, establishment.

That sheriff, he’s a mean cuss.

See them boots?

Silver-tipped and intricate all up the sides?

He dips ‘em in rattlesnake venom.

And he’ll kick ya ‘til yer skin splits

and rots, black as raven’s feathers.

He’s the devil alright.

And the devil deals in hearts.

That’s why I’ve sleeved

a spade.

One day he’s gonna ask

the wrong "purty lil' thang"

to dance.

© 2013 Jennifer Wagner

At dVerse we’re writing cowboy poetry.  The Delmonico was a Hotel and Restaurant and suspicioned to have rooms leased to Madame Henrietta Maynard in Port Townsend, WA in the early 1900’s.  I’ve based my fictionalized poem on accounts found in the “Bars & Bordellos” booklet from the Jefferson County Historical Society (pictured). 

Full Circle from the High Road

You asked me how I felt,

after the year gone shipwreck

in the land of the malignant albatross,

and I could never answer you completely—

my chest too constricted, my voice,

mutilated and rasping in the wind.

You asked me how I felt,

and I have found words now,

though I have only wings for yesterday

fitted to fly in a sky I no longer believe in.

You asked me how I felt,

but I will hold my tongue

and watch patiently from my perch

the crow you will have to eat

nesting among wolfsbane and water hemlock,

while I am gaining strength to dip my feathers

and soar above the vultured horizon.

You asked me how I felt

and soon you’ll know

how it feels.

© 2013 Jennifer Wagner

For dVerse where Victoria has us writing anaphora poetry.

*wolfsbane and water hemlock are highly toxic plants.