On a scale of blue-ribbon,
Vi places the mustangs
superior to humans.

There may not have been
a more spiritual scene in
the world, the dust hangs.

They took off, rumbling
through the canyon,
lighting the stick of TNT,

throwing that coil of humbling
feminist fuse and caution
to the wind.

From here on out, things
got pretty Western, Sadie
and Vi screwed down on

those Ozark Rancher's
Basketweave saddles as
tight as a "Morgan"

silver dollar on a frontier
store counter, not easily
plucked down in those days.

Balance and coordination
combined with timing left
no room for inaccuracies.

Dust is an evil, and so are
the pheasants they are
flushing out, heading for

a wreck if they pulled those
reins back, or worst yet, if one
of the pheasants collided with

horse or rider at this great speed.
Neither Vi or Sadie is looking to
have a transitional wreck at forty.

"Sadie and Vi have a world full of good instincts and a Marlboro spirit and that is what is going to bring these wild mustangs in.  Instead of driving them straight as they pulled out of the canyon, they drove them at an angle, Sadie up front along beside them and Vi running a hundred yards back.

"Every few seconds, the crescent-moon hoofs plowed up the buffalo grass, hurling the divets, not exempt from uprooting, but only in this special case.  Created by the hand of God, or by Dreamtime ancestors, whatever our religious beliefs, we must try to keep the land as we find it, but occasionally, we disturb it for the good.  Bringing in the wild mustangs is a spiritual happenstance for Sadie and Vi.

"Changing gears, Sadie spurs her horse, thinking ahead what they were going to do once they got to the corral.  She was sure the gate was closed, and these mustangs weren't going to wait around.

"Vi knew what Sadie was thinking.  She was thinking the same thing herself, but they weren't within talking distance.  Sadie threw her right hand up, the same one she used to throw her half of the coil of feminist fuse, and pointed ahead, meaning it was all up to Vi to bring the mustangs in.  They were only about a half-mile out and running at the speed they were, it wouldn't take but a wild, eight-second ride to get to the finish line.

"Tailgating the "hung" Outlaw one with his penis extended, Vi shot past him, getting a lick of sperm flying in the air when he ejaculated from being damn excited.  She'd put his dick in the dirt if she had to!  She had a coil of feminist fuse to spare.  'Save it Outlaw---you'll need it one day,' she hollered, her throat hoarse and dry from the dust.  She wiped her lips off and cracked them in a conspiratorial grin.  Reeling it in, he may or may not have heard her next comment, blowing him off with 'I'm a gay woman, so don't waste that big one on me.'"

"Sadie pounded a few nails quickly, securing loose boards.  She didn't know what to expect.  She was choking from the dust of Sagebrush Rebellion and her nostrils flared to the overpowering sweetness of horse lather.  Her partner was out there about to make a very satisfying end to this serendipitous day.  Hospitably, Sadie cleaved a bale of timothy hay and stood respectfully, taking her western hat off like you do at a rodeo before the National Anthem.  She got goosebumps and teary-eyed just like you do at the event just described.

"By the time it was all over, they looked like a street-cleaner's broom, dirty and frazzled.  'What the hell did we just do?' Sadie asked.

"In her polished speech and confident manner, Vi answered as if she was putting her name to a maverick bill. 'The ink goes down dark, bold, and cranky, hon, but as it dries, the letters evaporate leaving behind tame gray shapes.'

"Ridden hard and put up wet, the metaphor had yet to be proven...and it would.  Somewhere in between the lick of stallion sperm and the taste of mare snot hurled at her, Vi knew what her method of taming the mustangs would be, and she discussed it with Sadie, and because of the day's soul-stirring emotionalism and link with Dreamtime, they went to bed passionately attached.  You often found them this way.  In each of us, there is a dreamer...and a rebel...where sex and religion ride together."

Authors Note:  The poem was adapted from the novel and the excerpt is from my soon-to-be released novel FROM THE CONVENT TO THE RAWHIDE: THE SAGA OF SADIE CADE AND VI MONTANA.

This novel is available to producers, directors, screenwriters, and filmmakers.  For professional consideration of OPTION/PURCHASE please contact:

Lenny Minelli--WGA Signatory
apoy1(at)aol.com

Copyright 2006 Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist, brainchild of Sage Sweetwater Creative Properties, flagship of Stone Creek Woman