untitled

i was a cowboy

rode your ghost

hard to the north end

i left it

heaving

and foaming

under saddle -

to die alone

in a drift

i hitched

back -

in time

for yule

and foolish gifts

sadder still

to be left

with no

more

than a ghoulish

notion -

faded red

bleached blood

drying in the

arctic sun.

(c) jim hill (12-26-09)