Inspired by “Goodbye Horses” by Q Lazzarus
you have been rolling the boulders back and searching the caves. but you only need hitch a ride among our lips and tongues to testify. we are the gift.
barn doors are cobbler warbles. cotton sheet teeth. a nudge when sunlight can’t break our eyelids. and home no longer hinges on a mother’s acceptance.
fences cannot hurdle us. we toss our beaten bodies unhurriedly. over walls. this collagen hobbles sins. adheres to the high grime of the intolerable. saddles them with the stench of red hands.
like a noisy river grinding into the sea, we will not be held. leather rains tethered to cowhide clouds chatter above our fingertips. drowned by endurance. when did we last feel dry? or safe? or glued together?
true, though we swallow, gray lives in our long throats. but these plains were painted rich and evocative before we could language love.
we mourn the Nisean and Ferghana. we champion the yearlings.
when society shoehorns us into a straight death march, we pull the steel gilding from our feet and catapult it through stubborn eyes. we cry, nay.
though you lead us into the storm’s aftermath. tell us to inhale the puddle. try to deafen us with reflections. we are not afraid of the figures in the water. or the monsters at our shoulders. we may be parched, but we can go a lifetime sipping thunder.
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