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.
Cowabunga!
Revving spurs with pleather soles
Chewin’ straw
and learning
how to spit
like a pioneer.
About the Author
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.
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