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Melissa Broder

Lonesome Cowgirl


As long as I lived with god in my cupboard

I thought I was living with god.

My eyelids never caught on a scotch glass.

I didn’t leave him for a vaquero with a Cadillac.

I was doing the deal, my actions arrows,

faith muscles greased.


Somewhere I stopped looking for magic,

winks in the canyon loam shaped like keys.

Pretend to live on the surface awhile

and you become a surface dweller.

Once I was a nightrider with a wild rag.

Now I haven’t seen a horse in three years.

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