They used to call her a trigger happy bitch grippin’ one no no two ivory handled revolvers gettin’ buck-rowdy like Wild Bill lickin’ up the last drops of red liquor in saloons and this gal she got the sepia skin she ain’t beauty queen she ain’t Oakley girl with a western show like a damned act grinnin’ at Cody blowin’ kisses like magic and tuhdah no sir-not her-this gal-she got some dirt on her boots got some grit in her teeth and she patrols the whole frontier peelin’ back scabs from her tiny bruised knuckles before she cracks them pop poppoppop ohhh right on the nose goddamnyou motherfuckers don’t tussle with her fringes don’t rub trouble on her coonskin cap she will clench her six shooters in her fists like oooh-yeahyeahyeah-uhuh and squishy explosions of heads splatter when she squeezes out that bangbangbang it makes her grin like shit her mama said she used to be the sweetest thing martha jane pink cheeks blonde curls yes sir the cutest shin kickin’ spit spatterin’ lil’ lady of these here goddamn plains.
This poem was originally published in The Wild Ones: A Queer Lit Rag (Issue 1.1 (2015): 5-7)
and later republished on The Dangerous Women Project (27 May 2016).