• Endria Richardson


I want to be a cowboy.

I want to cross Australia

on horseback, bare back with

my hair blown back (and black

tipped against the wind).

If I were a boy, small, young boy

with a brown chest,

or a man with a rippling chest – flat

like the land I ride will be flat, and

with strong arms –

I might not want this. And

if I am instead a small brown girl,

mixed-ethnicity, no horse to speak of,

no saddle to throw to the wind,

at least my dreams – I think they’re too

white, clean, upper-class –

have outraced the bounds I grew up in.

I never rode a horse when I was young,

but one by one my older siblings did.

I was too small. But I made it through

high school, the only one who did.

And Harvard, too, I did.

I do not know how impractical it is

to think of traveling all those miles

on one horse, without one lesson under my belt,

with more than one oddity in me.

I do not know what I will find:

that I am not what I want;

that I have come too far.

Still. Tonight I will close my eyes and

I will be a boy, small and brown

or a man with a rippling chest,

or anything other than this I am.

And I will think of you, who you are,

who I love, who is the good plain land


by God I will gallop hard.

#Australia #cowboy #fantasy #poem

0 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

a poem by hafiz

The Heart is right to cry Even when the smallest drop of light, Of love, Is taken away. Perhaps you may kick, moan, scream In a dignified Silence, But you are so right To do so in any fashion Un


the hardest days come when you take a long look back at yourself and see how simple you are. you see those old hurts that you thought were closed just breathe under the skin. you see those old anger

I did not ever like a raspberry.

I did not ever like a raspberry. It is tart. It has seeds. It is a red not enough red But almost pink. As though it Had lost its dye; bled out. Or it was dusty, or one had Rubbed the rouge from