April 2, 2013

the way of horses

You keep imagining your life as a track circled by bleachers,
fans gripping their tickets and screaming their prayers.
You picture the jockeys in their starched whites, bent
at the waist, heels digging. You hear the shutter of a thousand cameras,
the bullhorn, the cinematic lights, the feeding frenzy at the snack bar,
the fevered guzzle of ale. And so you are whipping yourself
into your finest speed, careening through the dazzle and chaos,
drunk on the thought of victory. Of course, this is not the way of horses.
You have fooled yourself because someone hit the buzzer and opened the gates.
Your legs are not looking for a finish line. They want a field.