Barn Dance Lust Poem

1/18/2015

All overgrown
for lack of plowing
I dream too loudly
waiting to be picked
I am, of course, late
to the barn dance
the farmers
are busy increasing their flocks
the cowboys
have chosen wild mares
they will tame
the fiddler stirs and stomps
the music seizes me
I shake, I kick, I scream
O music in my stomach
music music in my hair
blood rises to hot cheeks
a sweating dance
a full ripe dance
I am a feast
and miss the good boys
gliding home good girls
by plump pink arms
the band has packed their magic up
but I don’t hear them anymore
I’ve claimed the center
of the barn’s dirt floor
my dress split open
I am spinning
faster faster faster
all alone.

(published June 16, 2016 in the Rat's Ass Review's Love and Ensuing Madness section!)

1 Comment

Heather Lee Rogers

I write and perform poetry. I have been published on many websites and print publications at various times throughout my life. I live in NYC where I also create as an actor. Acting projects make me forget that I'm a poet for long stretches of time. But I mean to work on that here: I'll be posting old poems, new poems, and everything in between. Thanks for visiting. Enjoy!