Quiet or quick off the mark,
it’s your draw now, cowboy!
At the trough
a whinnow mane
shakes desert dust.
A shutter creaks and midday wanes.
Brass badges rust out here.
This is a poem I wrote in mid-2012. It will be one of about a dozen poems in a set I’m compiling entitled “Emily’s Poems for Modern Boys.”
The poem that is now “At noon” was spontaneously formulated during, of all things, a Facebook correspondence. On its first public reading, comments on the poem included:
“You do know, sheriff’s badges didn’t rust in the desert? So that’s incorrect.”
“There’s a spelling mistake. That’s not how you spell ‘whinnow.’ Anyway, what’s a ‘whinnow mane’? Such a thing doesn’t exist.”
“I like the sense of desert dust and Spaghetti Westerns that the poem evokes.”
Blog readers, perhaps you have some thoughts?
If you enjoyed “At noon” visit my first volume of selected poems here. Follow my comments on modern boys and the wild west of laziness (usually my Saturday mornings) on Twitter. I’m @BeadedQuill.
4 thoughts on “At noon”