The Rumble

The girls are slinging hootenannies over the roar of the off-road dirtbikes.

Writing by Taya Boyles
Art by Motel Gemini

The Rumble

A cul-de-sac cult of corn shucking,

Southern belles, bonneted in a recliner

Winded, wobbling, ever-turning

Bandanaed, white-lace-tipped Manifest Destiny

shawls, flying like wings in the wind.

And the girls are slinging

hootenannies over the

roar of the off-road

dirtbikes, the red piercing

through the tapioca dustclouds

rolling from the exhaust

back into the crowded

circus of an I-64 standstill.

A darn tootin’ set of darlings.

A cowboy convoy.


Revving spurs with pleather soles

Chewin’ straw

and learning

how to spit

like a pioneer.

About the Author

close up photo of bluebells

Taya’s publishing journey started at just eight years old and has come a long way from misspelling glue. Since then, her poetry and flash fiction has appeared in Crest Letters, Split Lip Magazine, Vermillion, Pwatem, The Rye Whiskey Review, Synthesis Publication, Radical Zine, Breadfruit Magazine, and more.

About The Artist

Motel Gemini is mysterious, but you’ll get to know them throughout this Wild West issue as they ride with us from start to finish.

glowing neon light on street with parked cars at night

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