Four Mares, Flank to Flank
on a downtown sidewalk:
Appaloosa, a royal silver
service. Two Clydesdales
and a Morgan—fourteen hands.
Pinwheel tails. Brushed, hair falls
like thin, glinting fish
slapping pavement.
Blinders on, this world is only
what's ahead: the brick wall,
painted white; my quiet
red bicycle; the homeless shelter's
constant, blanketed out-
pouring.
prev poem
contents