Rodeo

Lily Wrieden

Sterling, bruised back and bloody nose,
fell in a flurry of dust to the arena floor.
The bucking beast that threw him spun
with red lightning in its eyes.
Both it and the boy buckled in the tall, unremitting stadium lights
that exposed the phony pair like the accusatory eye of an angry God.

Stark whites of the horse’s eyes against its convulsing black coat,
threads of vein pulled taught as it kicked and fought.
It had fled from the the jaws of an iron cage
into an arena cacophonous with cries,
of predator or enthused spectator a poor horse cannot tell the difference,
as it’s back was beset by a wriggling, clamping weight.
Chest and breath seizing frighteningly, it finally expelled the attacker.

When he fell,
Sterling, the sorry stargazer,
tried to escape to the sky,
But when he looked up like a lost child
The sympathetic face of his celestial father was not there to console him.
Sterling’s spurs jangled alright,
he spit and
clicked his tongue with a wink at the girls wearing cutoffs.
But he never did beat the bronco, nor his brother’s record.

The kicked cowboy shuffled out of sight,
like a small mouse skitters from the light.

–

Lily Wrieden is a 16-year-old from Southern California. Beside writing, her loves include music, performing onstage, movies, fashion, and her friends. She adores studying the humanities, and abhors STEM, and hopes to continue her education. She is learning Spanish with an aim to become fluent and travel lots in her future.