the last frontier

when the pioneers forded
the mississippi,
ankles wet and
skirts dipped in
chocolate mud,
they were yearning
for land
for freedom
for home
and the muck
sucked their shoes
and the sludge
nudged their shins
and the mire
tired their souls.
O, to give in!

i endure on the banks
of that old man river,
ankles dry and
skirts rustling in
barren air,
and i lust
for exposure
for plain talk
for home
and the drafts
grasp my hands
and the winds
skim my neck
and the skies
prize my secrets out.
O, to give in!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s