Boy, Mother, Horse
When you were a boy, you would skip church early
to feed the horses half a mile up the hill.
You cannot hear a mother screaming over
a horse chewing an apple. You cannot hear
a mother telling you that you will die at fourteen
from your disabilities: do not look at the mother
crying at the steps of the church. This crying
is not for you. You would stick hay between
your teeth & peer across flatlands, to see how far
you could see. Sometimes the horses would
look with you so that you were both looking,
& you imagined they too wondered how long
the fields went. You wondered how far
you could walk before you were spotless.
When your mother would talk as you drove her
back from church, you would turn into
the frequency of a horse eating an apple.
A horse could snap an apple right in half
on the first try. A mother could break
your will if you let her.
