“She was wild before the breaking
prone to shaking her mane with gleaming consternation
with every rider thrown before a claiming could take place –
bit by bit.”
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“She was wild before the breaking
prone to shaking her mane with gleaming consternation
with every rider thrown before a claiming could take place –
bit by bit.”
“Is every cowboy’s gaze a wanton one?” she mused.
“Is his a gun for slinging
bullets . . .
or arrows?” she wondered.
“Then, in a nasty bit of addition. . .
19 sticks of death in a Birmingham basement
disperse the magic of girls, little and fatally black — Addie Mae, Carole , Cynthia , and Denise, to be exact.
4 loving spoonfuls of browned sugar consumed and crystallized on Youth Day . . .”
In the pocket –
hanging on to Bootsy
for dear life
foot deeply rooted
outright stuck
“on the one.”