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Cowboy Poetry and Western Verse
OFF IN THE CORNER
John Duncklee
Off in the corner of the corrugated shed
The old saddle lay unnoticed, half hidden by its layer of gray-brown dust
And the pair of old chaps, cracked and scraped, hanging loosely from the horn, Burned and grooved by dallies over the years.
The saddle strings, those still attached, were stretched and hard.
The rancid, dead sweat from a hundred, maybe two hundred horses
Reeked from the skirts and battered fenders.
By the door, on a wooden rack, another saddle. Its tooled design distinct, fresh looking. Too new for the smell of sweat, only oil and new-tanned leather. The horn was dull, unburned, ungrooved. It would squeak for months, mile after mile.
Perhaps in fifty years it will earn its wear and smell.
And then its dust.
Off in the corner.
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