little girl wishes, her histories with a small smile
naively, she shifts her weight with
naively, she shifts her weight with
her eyes nailed to the podium
avoiding eye contact it was hard to tell
she had known danger
intimately.
she had known danger
intimately.
“If the rider is nuts,
the horse bolts,” they always say.
Today, she spoke of the long lean
and pressure points.
Her shoulders showed
she had seen her share of withers shake with warning.
she had seen her share of withers shake with warning.
Her baby hairs frizzed out in agitation
that the truth is-
size may matter.
that the truth is-
size may matter.
She had seen the rippling muscles so tense
her voice quivered,
her voice quivered,
where the equines veins are forced to sit atop
and strain under pulled skin at the nodes.
She had looked into glass ball brown eyes that flash a slit
of white, not watchful but warning.
Square teeth, as green as a homeless herbivore
human, in flashes likewise with his
human, in flashes likewise with his
ears pinned back-
Hold on or get trampled.
Such is movement
in dreams.
Afraid of spiders, she added at the end.
When she looks away briefly,
It becomes clear,
the horses have followed her gaze-
she should be afraid.
Rabbits don't hide
in hats, but they do leave holes
so she can keep her fears
penned up
in poetry.
Painting By Edmund C. Tarbell, 'Schooling the horses' c. 1902 in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Painting By Edmund C. Tarbell, 'Schooling the horses' c. 1902 in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.