Virginia Deep
Bittersweet days and
sleepless nights
Days spent on park benches
regarding passersby
as butterflies
tethered to their lives
Wings pinned down by convention
Nights in her convent
the room of her own:
Smoke, coffee, tension
The quill stung with her blood
No control and again
voices voices voices
No rest, no cure
No choice, save the obvious
Stop the voices
Drown them
Condemn them to
watery oblivion
© 2014 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Imaginary Garden With Real Toads’ Mama Zen gave us a challenge: Write about Virginia Woolf. I have not been posting much lately, but this was inspiring to the nth degree. Thanks, Mama, I knew you could raise me from my slumber! Peace, Amy
SLIM’S SONG
Sky so black it shines
Stars dance and glimmer
Souls surely are up there
Swimmin and lookin down
We’re keepin warm by
Smoky’s campfire, we
call him that cause he
could make a fire outta rain
For once Lance brings ME
coffee, like an equal pardner
Took me years of provin myself
to get to this place at the fire
Not huddlin by the chuck wagon
Not hangin back like a shy kid
But ridin and wrangling with em
Sharin dirty jokes and talkin bout
women we had in Laramie, and
I had me a few; they were better off
for knowin me. Glad I cut off
my hair and bound my breasts
to assume this identity
They think I’m a him and
that’s fine with me, I was born
to be a he, Little Slim Lantree
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Woke up this morning not knowing I’d be a transgender cowboy by afternoon, but here I am, thanks to dverse. This gal had upchucked the chuck wagon, born to ride, probably had all brothers on her father’s ranch and wasn’t going to be left behind to his devices. And the prostitutes, used to slam-bam-thanky-ma’am, were obviously pleased with her prowess… wink. Also for the Poetry Pantry at Poets United.
This gender bender also appears at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads. Peace, Amy
