Monday, March 25, 2013

The Horse Next Door

Her smooth feathered hide lay firmly on sleek
muscles, twitching for flies. Irritation
wells inside, for nobility should not
be inconvenienced by paper thin wings
that survive mere days. Dew beads up on her
silken strands while my translucent skin scrapes
across trench wire. No clicking, calling, or
kissing will summon the earth shaking stomps
I seek to feel below, but scents of fruit
enchant her sway. For a moment, I sink
to know that my hands alone could never
be worthy to draw her sweet breath closer.

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