her aim used
to be off, life in
the city missing
the ranch, I took
her a box of get well
pigeons when I heard
she took out a row of fence,

she told
me she pawned
the shotgun to pay
her bail, well I wasn't
taking the box of pigeons
back, I sent a telegraph to
Wyatt, he sent back,

the trip to
Tombstone
was rough, wagon
she crashed had a broken
spoke, wheel was weak, but
we went at it slow, we'd get there
in a week,

bandits left us
alone, women who
ride in a wagon loaded
with pigeons and whiskey,
dynamite in place of a shotgun
are called respected, they didn't
know I had just one match,

by the time
we got to Tombstone,
we were tired and hungry,
Johnny Ringo stood in front
of the saloon, we don't know how,
but he knew we had pigeons, he
jumped us,

Wyatt heard
the commotion
he came out, tossed
her a shotgun I wired him
about, "Doc has tuberculosis,
did you hear?" Wyatt asked.

I woke from
the dream, gunshots
ringing in my head, my
throat choking on the dust,

opened a box
of fresh Mason
canning jars I had
stacked on top of a
box of clay pigeons,
poured my whiskey,

her aim used
to be off, life in
the city missing
the ranch, I took
her a box of get well
pigeons when I heard
she took out a row of fence,

she told
me she pawned
the shotgun to pay
her bail,

we stopped
to get her shotgun
out of hawk, her saddle
was right next to it, I paid
for the claim ticket and we
headed back out to the pasture,

I set up
my clay pigeon
thrower mounted
on a tire, loaded the
tray with a pigeon, when
she was ready, she said "PULL!"

pigeon flew
in the air when
I pulled the rope,
she put her shotgun
barrel on it, twelve times
she hit it, shattered the pigeon,
that last time she hit the pigeon,
she got a lump in her throat, "Doc
has tuberculosis, did you hear?"

Wyatt told
me the pigeon
was good for mending
fences...

Copyright 12/23/2009 Ms. Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist