Ashcan life,
spreads cremated
dreams out to pasture,

that wood burned,
fell through the grates,
residue hauled out in the fireplace shovel,

fireplace bricks and hearth swept clean,
kept me warm for a few seasons,
it's time to buy another cord of dreams,

Ashcan sits in the pasture,
the neighbor's pinto horse
reincarnated from the Utes who walked here,

horsehair hangs on barbwire,
caught up from rubbing too close,
lost some hide too, intimacy bleeds,

there's still signs of
a buffalo wallow on my land,
the soil sinks in a spot where the buffalo rolled,

Ashcan wire handle needs mended,
guess I'll bring it in and fix its mobility,
after all, that Ashcan keeps my dreams warm...

I write in Shawpita's Journal: Durango, Colorado,
the evening~21~1876
Ms. Saltwater awoke from her rum dream.
 

Copyright 12/21/2009 Ms. Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist