Tonight's Poet Corner: Trigger

Trigger
by Belinda Roddie

Her name was Trigger, and she
sure was happy, blowing holes
in cans from two miles away. You could
see the smoke curling into 'told you so's,'
and the cursive was flawless.

The brim of her father's hat was
wide and imposing, and it suited her
and her two revolvers just fine - a
broad hat complementing broad
shoulders, broad hips, and an even
broader sense of humor behind
tobacco leaf-stained teeth. Keep

in mind that her papa's name was
Barrel, and his nose was just
perfect to stare you down over,
the nostrils substituting for
bullet chambers, warm in the winter.