Wayward Cowgirls

Saint Paul, 28 September 2003

In a trailer park off the Paris 286 loop

Laid bare by a Texas twister your

Self-portrait hangs cocked above the

Broken dishes of wayward cowgirls

Silvery punctuation of betrayal

Your navel inclined in the moiré

Of an October turned cold

I posed you for that portrait like

Window shades pour over indiscretion

And postcards fade to regret

Still, like the magician’s sidekick

You levitate above the rubble