(In memory of Oscar Norris who was my friend when I needed a friend, who taught me how to sharpen a knife, who taught me how to carve a chain out of wood, who taught me how to catch and clean a trout…)
by Emmie Domschot
There were horses running wild
and thunder in the sky
The day that Billy died.
Lightening flashed east to east
and broke the morning light.
The desert ran water in dry ditches
and floods over stony ground.
Billy said it would be that way.
His momma told him he was born
without a whisper or sound
And, by God, he’d have to redeem himself
on the way out.
It was time someone in the family
stood for something more than cheap beer
and broke down pickup trucks.
So it was that thunder ripped the sky
The day that Billy died.
Streams in the Desert by A. Leon Miler