Clergy shout it
behind the pulpit
to those below them
in the rows of repentance –
the way for the righteous
is up
one step at a time
to the big meet and greet
with the deity of sublime resolve.

My little lost cowgirl of splendor and grace
the one with the knee high boots
and knockout smile
always reminded me
of biblical admonitions
while roping steers
“God looks down upon us
no matter where we were
even in the pastures” she said
as we stole away moments
of pleasure
under the watchful eye.

One late afternoon in the barn
stacking hay loads
in pens meant for cows, pigs
I borrowed a twenty footer
and up I went
to meet her. Hours later
on my way down
I slipped on a rotted wooden rung
and fell ass first
onto the finest dairy milker of the bunch
breaking my fall
but breaking her back.

“Why did you kill my Bessy?”
daddy dearest snarled as he caressed the diary’s best
in his calloused hands. “What were you doin’ upstairs?”

Reflecting on the man upstairs
and his words of wisdom I replied,
“The crane dumped over the excess hay.
I tried to push ’em in, even and straight
but they fell on the poor thing.”

The haggard rancher stood over me
looked deep into the eyes of his daughter
before saying, “Next time
you help yourself to the milk,
you’d better be prepared to buy the whole cow –
or you’ll climb up Jacob’s ladder
much sooner than you think.”

The next day
I left farming all together
– right after I kissed the girl of my lonely nights goodbye
to take up door to door solicitation
of Gideon’s finest bibles
for those non-believers
who think being scared straight
is only for wicked.