Ridden All Night
I had been ridden all night and woke up wet and intemperate
and walked out because of the economy and back without a single piece
of fruit or one end of a halter around a chestnut mare. Spit and hiss
from the electrical, although when the bulbs lit up I was awed and
at the same time the slave trade, the treaties torn up and the land
grabbed, and my mother burned in her Marine uniform
and opera and sugar and cotton and white kinds of beauty
that had conditions and clauses that made walking difficult
the snow melting from the fire and then freezing overnight
so I was slightly visible, slightly slick from fog and the machines.
