THE LAST WILD FRONTIER by Sissy Buckles

Okay, the red experiment
was vastly unsuccessful,
so it's back to blonde on blonde,
dreaming of alchemy,
some old school metallurgy
and forging fresh stuff,
listening to Bob Dylan
on the hi-fi stereo.
And maybe,
you're not supposed to remember
anybody's promises,
I don't know where I belong anymore,
stranded somewhere between
the anxious wreckage
of wonder and belief,
where a singular place of waiting
with hesitant openness
for some last wild frontier
is enough of a commitment,
for now...
but oh, how lovely is it
to be able to go in the door
and then,
back out again -
and it just could be,
I'll pull my soft old crinolines
out of the closet,
and give em a little shake!

***

Sissy's bio:

Ragtop...

Over my shoulder
unfurls a gold satin sail -
sudden winter gust.