Love Song to the Man Announcing Powwows and Rodeos

How your voice over salted flanks
licks tender, and when you say young ones,
our future, hitches left like making room,
and when you name the horses booms low,
storms a kick-up moan, chases them down,

Want to read the rest?
Please login.
New to Narrative? sign up.
It's easy and free.