by Mary Margaret Dougherty
There’s a 101 brand hanging on my wall
My grandmother’s brand and her grandmother's before her
Two women who outlived husbands and
ran the ranch themselves.
There’s a goose egg carved into the headstone of
the family plot in the cemetery
My grandfather then Dad used that one
For me, a bar singed under.
There’s a rafter 7 burned into wood above my sink
My husband scorches Longhorn hide with electricity
His father’s iron came from a fire.
There’s a walking P of gold encircled with gilded rope
on my mother’s third finger
Her personal display of Grandfather’s cow id.
And here I am amidst them
wearing all the brands.
Copyright © 2023 by Red River Review. First Rights Reserved. All other rights revert to the authors.
No work may be reproduced or republished without the express written consent of the author.