bodie moon
Sucked his last — winter 1888.
Cold breath full of rattle.
Sal saw it coming.
Kate said he'd lost his gait.
Nan sure moon 'twould be full.
He struck a handsome pose.
No trouble getting lucky with women folk around.
Mining near Hot Creek
his luck never quite panned out.
Some say he walks the grave paths now,
whene'er the moon's just right...