Mexican Sunrise Poem by Alex Garr

I was watching the sunrise
In Mexico when my horse died beneath me.
I was in Diez Coronas,
On the edge of a cliff,
With only my horse for company.
Stars were scattered across the
Palette of the sky,
Colored silver on indigo.
Past the edge of the cliff
Lay nothing but sandstone and a
Hundred feet of empty air.

My horse whickered and
Pawed the ground impatiently.
I could feel his muscles bulge and relax,
Eager to get on with our journey.
As the sky started to lighten,
I checked my pocket-watch:
Twenty-seven minutes past five.
Just a few more minutes.
Great Kiskadees awoke and
Started to sing from
Unseen nests in the few trees
Around me.
In the distance,
I heard the wildlife stirring,
Getting ready for the new day.

I didn’t even hear a warning growl.
I’ll never know if there was one.

With a feline-like snarl,
A brown and black blur
Snapped at my horse’s legs.
The horse reared,
It’s eyes wide with terror.
I struggled to get my feet
Out of the stirrups.
The bobcat turned back for my horse
And pounced.

I fell from my horse as
The bobcat dug into
Its throat.
I watched as my horse fell
With blood pouring from
Its neck,
His eyes white and wide,
The pupils rolling into his skull.

On my knees,
I reached down into
My leather holster,
Fingers wrapping around cold steel.
I pulled the Colt free,
Its chamber loaded with
Six chances of death,
Each encased in copper.
I cocked back the hammer,
Squeezed the trigger.

The bobcat fell back
From the force of the shot.
I got up and walked towards the dying animal.
It gave cries of pain,
Cries of agony.
“Mercy” is what those cries told me.
“End my suffering, ” they said.
So I did.

The bobcat’s head exploded
In blood and brains.
After it stopped twitching,
I grabbed my knife
And cut into the animal.
As the sun began to rise behind me
In the east,
I cut off the fur,
Gutted it for meat,
And wrenched its fang from the gumline.

Now,
Here I stand in Mexico
With people staring at me funny,
And no wonder.
I’m a gringo with a bobcat’s fang
Hanging around my neck,
Trying to sell a bit of bloodied fur.
But I don’t care.
I need the money.
I need another horse.