*chortle* Classic Poem Series…that makes me laugh. It’s true enough to me, though. These are poems I wrote in graduate school, and I’m glad I saved them. I’ve submitted some of these for publication, but as of now, I’m quite happy to post my work here. I hope you enjoy them.

Even in Death, the Ranch Hand Laughs

He was raised on cactus needles
and leather strips,
given only boiling water to drink,
had only rocks for friends.
He learned to tip his hat to no one.

He looked at us with the slightest of grins,
cool on the edges,
as we chewed our grass
and our many stomachs burbled.
He would puff out his match-struck cheeks
and sing as the night yawned into being,
sitting on the fence,
right with the world.

He died with the sunrise,
leaving us to our plaintive lowing.
Even now, we hear him laughing,
chastising us:

you silly moon-fed beasts,
when will you rise from the grass
and understand that you never needed me?
When will you shake the flies from your face?