5 Generations Gone Wrong

Another glass of milk, another
birthday with the smiles of dusty teeth
quenching for thirst. Pack more tobacco.
Pack more steak. Make us fat—give
us Amish bread.
Maybe we should ride a Harley in the
dark to the barn! As they pump
milk out of the Heifer's breast so
intensly—humbling my every bone. Bourbon
makes you fall off your horse
Cowboy! Marijuana made a good season.
The Indian knits a blanket, the elderly
weep and everyone stops for church
on Sunday to get their weekly dose
of inspiration.

by Natasha Deann

Other poems of NATASHA DEANN (4)

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