Cowgirl by Amit Parmessur

In the shy yellow sun there she has a straw hat,

worth three times a true cowboy’s bravery.

If she wears spurs she might laugh any stern

horse into the most gallant gallop.

*

A horse would love such sweet feet and tender

fingers, but she wasn’t made for equestrianism.

She is a cowgirl, one who milks cows,

and I faintly know she is a young widow too.

*

The milk she would coax out of the cows once

turned into black gall and poisoned her life,

turning her solid marital bed upside down.

The end is not the end in life, cowgirl.

*

I know, a ray from the golden sun shall wither

and cascade down as a deadly blade,

cutting the healthy neck of

a holy cow grazing calmly in a meadow.

*

The white blood will splash onto her violated forehead.

The proud rainbow shall humbly condense

and become her eternal scarf. The precise

arrow of the wind shall carry the sincere heart

*

of someone and plant it firmly into hers, I know.

Get up. Get ready!

Get married cowgirl.

The end is only for plays, beautiful virgin.

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Aged 28, Amit Parmessur hails from the gorgeous island of Mauritius. Despite limited opportunities in his country he has worked hard to polish his poetry. He has been published in over 40 magazines since starting to submit his poems late 2010. Burnt Bridge, Calliope Nerve, Carcinogenic Poetry, Clutching at Straws, Damazine, Dead Poets, Heavy Hands Ink, Leaf Garden Press, LITSNACK, Puffin Circus, Shot Glass Journal, The Camel Saloon, The Houston Literary Review, The Literary Burlesque and The Scrambler are some of the places in which he has appeared. He currently edits The Rainbow Rose.

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Editor’s Note: Please continue praying for Bennett, and prayerfully consider contributing to the  Compassionate Creativity fundraiser happening this month. Let’s find this little boy a home!