Road Poem

One of the horses was dead and it made for a
start to the day. Warm for the month for the year
so far. The kind that comes with sun and rain and
rain with lightning. That kills horses. Apparently.
I didn’t see the horse. I saw your face cave and
saw it come back. There’s no good antonym for
caving. Some things take work and time. You
narrow your eyes when you look far ahead. Your
pupils contract in the sunlight. Then you smile.
The future is mostly a whole lot of physiological
change. And expectation. And then some. When
I think about death my stomach hurts. When I
think about horses I am usually wrong. I thought
horses stood while they slept, but they can sleep
lying down. Bodies at rest become bodies at
work. Even decay can be no easy feat. Requires
work and time. Are we like or unlike horses. We
are not like this horse. This horse is different.
This horse is dead. But the field looks greener
than it looked before. The water pools where our
feet have moved the earth. It pools on the road. It
doubles us. I want to know if there is ever
enough symmetry. At Trader Joes the answer to
symmetry is lots. Pastels, gold lettering. I want to
buy an orchid. $12.99 in a ceramic, purple vase.
It feels like they’re reading my mind. When my
card is declined the staff is kind. They say it
happens to all of us but it’s happening to me. I
feel like I’m watching myself watch the horse.
But the grass is very green.