Judge Roy Bean and The Sundance Wives

saloon along
the Rio Grande,
tree of life hung those
in the chihuahuan desert,
knives encased in tamales,
a fine billiard table settled the
score, ten 55-gallon barrels of
whiskey, fire to shoot up the saloon
shack of a jewish competitor, Bean turned
his tent saloon into a courtroom, law west of
the pecos, his single lawbook law, new lawbooks
used for kindling, jury chosen from his bar customers,
competitor laced Bean's whiskey stores with kerosene,

The Sundance
Wives Colorado
saloon, tree of life
hung those in confusion
and contempt, somewhere
in Natchez, the church bells are
ringing, our religion percolating in
the sandstone ledges trickling water
down upon us, baptized lesbians with
a placer claim and films, pussy a piece
and a drinking steerhorn each,

watching for
the tumbleweed,
we've come into contact
with the hoof of the wild boar,
they say in print that our property
lays to rest at the Gates of Doogun Hill,
two tombstones that led us to revolt, under
the influence of Judge Roy Bean and the whiskey
tent.

Copyright Ms. Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist