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?