Dream in Turquoise and Bronze

Stuck in miles of traffic heading north -
all fleeing the hurricane offshore -
she jumped out the backseat and walked off –
husband and sister screaming her name.
In trance, she hiked roads of oyster shell
bathed in violet hues of darkening –
angry clouds were roiling to the south.
She felt vibrations of pounding surf -
wind whipped her hair into tangled braids
that danced as she leaned into the gusts -
stinging sand chafing her pretty face,
jabbing at her eyes, grating her teeth.
At dark, she crossed a crowded highway -
headlights glared as she ran to the brush.
She made her way by memory, feel,
lightning flash - rain thrashing her in sheets.
Numbed by cold, maddened by compulsion,
she pushed herself into the maelstrom.
At midnight she found the place that was
once Grandfather’s ranch. She crawled over
rotten fence timbers slick with moss, and
slogged wearily through the sucking mud
to the ancient house, slumping on its
sagging porch like refuse washed onshore.

bronze skin in the saddle
bronze dust in the shadow
bronze death in the battle -
warriors of the llano.

A tide of recollection swept her
far into childhood. Granddad’s stories
growled in the thunder – the blue eyed boy,
younger brother of his grandfather,
taken by Comanche - all hope lost,
but said by traders to have been sold
for blankets and ornamental stones,
back when Texas was still Mexico.
She struggled to stand knowing she must
shelter from the sky’s inspired ballet.
She lurched through the flapping door wildly
searching the void as the storm pursued.
Lightning joined earth to sky – in its gleam
she glimpsed a dark figure standing near -
a lean man with hollow cheeks, grim lips,
greasy hair falling to his shoulders.
She sprang in fright but he yanked her down
as he might throw a calf for branding.
He was night itself, the dark dancer.
She heard the sound of his buckle hit
the ground and she sensed him step to her.
The next flash showed his jutting member
waving above her - a bouncing lance
intent on her brutal skewering.

bronze skin in the saddle
bronze dust in the shadow
bronze death in the battle -
warriors of the llano.

He fell on her silently, forcing
her legs apart with his knees, slapping
her as she scratched at him in horror –
he grabbed both her wrists above her head
and hissed, “Stop fighting or you’ll die here.”
She gave in to the chilling timbre
of the voice – she wanted to survive.
He tore the thin wet blouse off her chest -
white breasts heaved in panic before him.
He bathed her soft tits with tongue and lips -
lightly touching teeth to her nipples.
She stroked the head at her breast confused
by the tender feel of his raping.
At his nod she pulled her panties off
and bent her knees up as he mounted.
With power, but not haste, he entered
to her soft gasps and nubile wiggles.
He stroked deep - pushing in, retracting –
quicker thrusts as she panted – until
his sperm coursed through her.
She retreated,
coiled in a ball for warmth and listened
to the storm strengthen – the eerie whine –
the rain like arrows on the siding –
the water babbling everywhere.

bronze skin in the saddle
bronze dust in the shadow
bronze death in the battle -
warriors of the llano.

He soon came to her again, roughly
yanking off the tatters of her dress –
she lay naked in the night’s fierce ink.
In her well of fear and loneliness,
she craved comfort, even his – wrapping
her legs on him as he dropped to her
and guiding his dick to her pussy.
She arched her body into his plunge –
fitting around his demand, giving
the suction to his drive, channeling
his ship through her unfamiliar waters.
Gripping his back, digging in her nails -
she felt his muscles stretch as he fucked
her with stiff cock and animal skill.
His yawning wants, the distance traveled,
the desperation of his pleasure –
each thrust imprinted these upon her.
She hunched up into his savage need,
and clutching her in awed orgasm,
he filled her as his servile vessel.

His arms wrapped around her, she rested
as great live oaks writhed in thunder and
the old house swayed on its foundation.
Silent waves lapped on an unknown shore.

bronze skin in the saddle
bronze dust in the shadow
bronze death in the battle -
warriors of the llano

In early morning, at his light tug,
she rolled over - lifting to his plunge
to be willingly impaled again -
throwing her deep moans into the storm.
She held on like driftwood in a flood
as he hammered her with his strong hips –
his blows rippling her lithe body, and
suffusing her with his dominion.
At a thunderclap they both trembled
and spilled their lust into the other.
They lay as tender lovers until
the center hovered and winds died down.
He got up to leave, she watched him dress,
“Tell me your name. At least give me that.”
In the half-light she looked exhausted
but magnificent. “My name is Jack,”
he stared at her and she saw the eyes –
bluish green - unlike any she’d seen,
precious gems from a different earth.
He vanished into the squalls of rain
leaving her his seed inside, an ache
from the hard fucking, a torn dress, and
a vast emptiness – endless want for
the demon cowboy rapist-lover.

bronze skin in the saddle
bronze dust in the shadow
bronze death in the battle -
warriors of the llano.

She kept that night as her dim secret.
A divorce soon followed since the child
growing in her wasn’t her husband’s.
The next spring she gave birth to a boy
whose eyes were rarest Tewa turquoise.
At her sister’s Corpus Christi home,
with the baby of a strange father –
they talked of the great-great-great uncle.
“Did Granddad ever say the boy’s name?”
she asked her sister who knew the story.
“Why do you ask? It’s just an old yarn.”
“I have these dreams of the storm – I see
him in them. I need to know his name.”
“That’s crazy,” her sister said coldly,
“but, I think, Granddad called him ‘Jackson.’”

Out the bay window, waves sloshed, children
milled about in the sand, but she saw
a distant land. “I can’t understand,”
her sister said, “why you left that night.
It’s a wonder you weren’t drowned, or that
some drifter didn’t kill you.”
Escaping
to that shore forever, as her last
words she whispered, “Ah, some drifter did.”