ARE WE THERE YET
After Toby Keith, “Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue”
When dead sleep lay down my
lost eye, until the day my mother,
happy in the nation, has fallen from somewhere,
soon as our black July feels wide, when
you’ll be your name, when you hear
the whole world raining.
After Toby Keith, “Beer for My Horses”
Somebody’s somebody, a son, a
man, to answer for the rope in a
round street. For the people that justice boys
to Gunsmoke, a tune against singing, crime
of the maker. Bet the saddle against horses,
the one thing you always got hard against whiskey
Kit Armstrong is a lifelong denizen of the American West (Denver, Los Angeles, Boulder, and—someday—San Junipero) whose work has appeared at Hobart, Vagabond City, The Indianapolis Review, BULL: Men’s Fiction, and elsewhere. They are on Twitter and Instagram at @uraniumsweater.