“I have come a long way, to surrender my shadow
To the shadow of a horse.”
- James Wright, “Sitting In A Small Screenhouse
On A Summer Morning”
While walking along the pasture fence.
Those last years an old mare was there,
A bit swayback, her left foreleg splayed.
We shared our being put out to pasture.
And most nights she would slowly amble
To where I waited . . . for her, in a way,
But more for what she reminded me of.
Her muzzle was as soft and sensuous
As the petals of a flower, or of the woman
Who once wanted me to touch her as gently;
The trembling of her skin as I stroked her,
She leaning and lifting against my hand,
My fingers filling with her musky scent.
I had come a long way, but still the surrender:
The sad intimacy of a mare and a memory;
One dead now, the other never quite forgotten.
Poetry by countryfog
Read 549 times
Written on 2010-11-27 at 15:02
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To the shadow of a horse.”
- James Wright, “Sitting In A Small Screenhouse
On A Summer Morning”
The Mare
Most nights I would smoke a last cigaretteWhile walking along the pasture fence.
Those last years an old mare was there,
A bit swayback, her left foreleg splayed.
We shared our being put out to pasture.
And most nights she would slowly amble
To where I waited . . . for her, in a way,
But more for what she reminded me of.
Her muzzle was as soft and sensuous
As the petals of a flower, or of the woman
Who once wanted me to touch her as gently;
The trembling of her skin as I stroked her,
She leaning and lifting against my hand,
My fingers filling with her musky scent.
I had come a long way, but still the surrender:
The sad intimacy of a mare and a memory;
One dead now, the other never quite forgotten.
Poetry by countryfog
Read 549 times
Written on 2010-11-27 at 15:02
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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