securing the
padlock on the
gunlocker, crock
sits in my lap in the
rocker, miners, outlaws,
teamsters and smelter hands
brawl, religion takes a fall,

The Sundance
Wives play for high
stakes, what a difference
it makes, trouble starts at the
turn of a hand, desperados roving
band seeking attention, thievists in
demand short of a hard-working miner's
pension, squander their money on women,
liquor and cards, claim jumper says the gold's
all his, bastard never was on the ore wagon, not
worth a sugar beet to a charcoal burner,

Silver Heels
of Buckskin Joe,
I've seen her ghost
in a thin veil, her face
all scarred up from small
pox, seen J. Dawson's ghost
on more'n one occasion in the rocks
when I was drinking whiskey, his bones
found in a prostitute's bed down the hill in
Alma, could've been in the bed of one of my
mama's girls for all I know, 'course that was
in 1866 when she ran a house, about the same
time J. Dawson’s bones were makin’ the rounds,

intruder
causes the
horses to stir,
Irish roustabout
keeps harlots and
champagne, to rob
a lady is the vilest, but
it has been known to happen
in the most beautiful twilight hours,
profane, over-zealous fortune hunters
will always be, Judge, the ruthless profiteering,

The defendant
of whom I speak
is a reprobate concocting
champagne from brown sugar,
water and yeast, engaging teamsters
to collect empty bottles from these alleys
at seven dollars a hundred. Refilled with his
puny cider for sale is affording him quite a profit
at the saloons, purchased by the bonanza kings
not suspecting, when they do, they'll hang him from
the rafters in the jail,

securing the
padlock on the
gunlocker, crock
sits in my lap in the
rocker, miners, outlaws,
teamsters and smelter hands
brawl, religion takes a fall.


Copyright 3.14.2010 Ms. Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist