by L.M. Browning, except from Drive Through the Night

 

Ride this life hard

      —barebacked, bone-shaken.

Wrap your legs tight

      —thighs around her rib cage, pounding.

Take hold in the rush

       —fingers tangled in her mane, entwined.

 

Don’t look back,

there is nothing for you there.

 

Recent Poetry Posts

Westward | A Poem

Westward | A Poem

There will come a day when I succumb to the roaming, rambling, road . . .

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