John Wayne

Shank. Neck. Rowel.

Lefty-loosey: a sheriff’s

percussion. Clank,

clank on the floorboards,

like keys in a pocket,

or two spare pennies

in the pick-locked coffer.

Shank. Neck. Rowel.

Those jangling pinwheels

make horse-haste.

Ninja Frisbees dig the raw

hind quarters.

A ten-gallon low whistle

keeping order

in this thirsty-eyed town.

Shooting fish in a barrel.

Shank. Neck. Rowel.

            Clank, clank on the floorboards.

And gunfights for the film rights

at the O.K. Corral.

john wayne

by brooklyn copeland

Brooklyn Copeland was born in Indianapolis in 1984.

She has since been living in Tampa, Florida and Northern Europe. Her

work has recently appeared, or will appear, in Burnside Review,

Ballard Street Poetry Journal, Cause and Effect, and online at

Nthposition.