Queen of the Cowboys

You play your hand like a backslider
Queen of the cowboys
Outside like a stray cat
We use our past as an excuse
Now between heaven and hell
The Rio Grande rises
Desert winds and guns
Your perfume like a full moon
Men tied up for a woman's pain
Your cards fall like deuces
Valleys as lonely as your father dying
She kissed Judas hanging on a tree
Your life is a decoration
Sleep on your sins of vengeance
The future becomes your past
Defined by what you hate
The kids will find out
Your heroes sell their soul

Queen of the cowboys doesn't cry

poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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