Queer Westerns Issue

after Katrina Agbayani though i spent much of my life trying. chased the barrels like i’d never known the rush of dizziness. clutched the mane of a living thing like we were one and the same. somewhere in a box left in my childhood home are all the ribbons i might have won. somewhere in a landfill are all the ribbons i won and lost. somewhere in my mother’s attic is a horse with a broken leg porcelain showing through paint where it hit the ground after leaving my father’s violent hand. all it would take is a ring of glue and care in setting to fix the figurine. i want BEST IN SHOW for refusing to break my aunt’s mustang colt. ALL AROUND COWBOY for never knowing when to quit or how to start. BREAKAWAY ROPING for perfect timing without the cruelty of a fall. i want to bet on the fat chance and win by a nose without pushing an animal beyond its limits. i want the rush without the race. the cowboy hat tucked down for that sheepish shot like all the western boys were the first to ever blush. i want to step to the second rung of a rickety wood fence so i can lean over and kiss another cowboy. i want the metal coil to brand my hip, not the livestock. let’s open up all the pens, let the animals roam free. let’s pile the hay and pretend it’s soft enough to lay on. open the hatch in the hayloft and look out at the stars even though you never see a cowboy at night. let’s pretend i’m the roughed up cowboy and you’re the buckle bunny and we’re just gonna have a little fun.