Cowgirls cain't never hide from Electric Demons' fire

Armor rent
lance broken, old six gun smokin',
burnin' scars in one hand.
Electric Demons laughin' fire.
The Cowgirl takes a bow
retreats from the field
of play
and drags down the lane
her heart heavy behind
like a sack a kittens
ready for the river;
boots kickin' up the dust
as she spurs her sweetness
too slow ahead,
and thinks…
It's as good a time as any
for a nap in the shade…

she loves anyway

Bright and warm
to her
her lovers lend
strong their arms
or lean
their length

and when away
more evident
the lack of
the heat they
deprive.

Though cool nights
relished, she
sleeps alone,

eves in their arms
etched sweet
in twilight dreams;

words
flesh
drifting
in and out of sleep
too aware
of the body beside
or their leaving
too soon.

And her heart?
loves them all
sorely, restless,
confused;
the one that drifts
the one that won't be
the one as yet
undefined,

but all
that rarely call.