I think if I would have been a cowboy with the pants,
and maybe a horse that trusted my voice even in the dark,
I would drift along some wide range of sky;
my name across it never fading.
I would see myself in deserts, the spineless plants crooked,
angry in their shadows.
Dusty families would pull their clothes across their backs,
and girls asking how they can whisper secrets with the air frosted
so tight it whistles louder than your pulse.
Once, maybe, this cowboy would have angry stones in his shoes,
kicking kicking/no music or restless drops of moonlight
in his eyes .
there is no restless moonlight in his eyes.
There might be the low humming love song kicked like a can
into the next town, left-over whistles hanging on your lip
If I would have been a cowboy there would be ropes,
maybe mountains of dust;
I would need a good hat.
So many things would be different here.
Can hardly name them all.
Amy Soricelli has been published in numerous publications and anthologies including Dead Snakes, Corvus Review, Deadbeats, Long Island Quarterly, Voice of Eve, The Long Islander. Sail Me Away (chapbook) Dancing Girl Press, 2019. Nominated by Billy Collins for Emerging Writer's Fellowship 2019 and for Sundress Publications "Best of the Net" 2013. Recipient of the Grace C. Croff Poetry Award, Lehman College, 1975.