“Her Green Grave” by Terry Brinkman


Irish face cloth she left drying on the line in the summer sun
Her smile left hanging on the endless Montana’s sky
Her Green Cowgirl Boots left under the front-porch
Darkness shining in the brightness of her eyes at twilight
Cow dung shadow’s lay over the hand-maid’s moonlight
Seated on her dad’s saddle crossed-legged smoking a coiled pipe
Gloved hand guiding the moon’s lost hawk to land
November’s morning bleached in Violet daylight


Terry Has been painting for over forty five years. Poems in Rue Scribe, Tiny Seed. Winamop, Snapdragon Journal, Poets Choice, Adelaide Magazine, Variant, the Writing Disorder, Ink Pantry, In Parentheses, Ariel Chat, New Ulster, Glove, and in Pamp-le-mousse, North Dakota Quarterly, Barzakh, Urban Arts, Wingless Dreamer, True Chili, LKMNDS and Elevation.