Baxter Black: Rodeo Mom |

Baxter Black: Rodeo Mom

Baxter Black, DVM
On the Edge of Common Sense

His mother was glad he wasn’t hurt worse.

As it was he went out on a stretcher.

She sat in the stands and swallowed a curse.

Holding her heart and trying to catch’er

Breath that was sucked from her very being.

She rose like a wraith, guided by loving

Eyes wide open but not really seeing.

Floating, she thought, but pushing and shoving

To get to his side as others gave way.

Close calls flashed through her mind as she hurried,

He’d always survived but each night she’d pray

Seeking an ally. God knew she worried.

Dreams. Horns as heavy as railroad ties,

Battleship hooves that smoked and tore black holes

In the flesh of her babies. Terrorized

She’d wake, shaking until she gained control.

She’d signed permission in his younger years.


Signed it. Released him into atmospheres

Uncharted. Knowing his mortality.

She hasn’t had to sign for quite a while

She thinks as she reaches the ambulance.

He’s grown. She takes his hand and tries to smile.

And reminds herself this is what he wants.

He squeezes her hand and grins sheepishly.

“Sign this form,” the driver is declaring.

Once more she signs her name. An irony

That spares not the mother of the daring.