What The Fuck Was That
free form
I wonder what the horse was thinking
when she bucked and bellowed and clanged, her hind legs statuesque
rooted like Kingcup cactus in the gravel-riddled Nevada desert,
her forearms kicking up in the dry July air. Was she thinking
she may end up murdering the little human in a blur of disturb
clinging to her bare back? Was she envisioning the end
of her nice horse life as glittering green bursts of happy fire
reflected back in her lacquer looking glass eyes? Was she fearful
for her horse children galloping in their unawareness to the terrors
of rockets' red glare against a backdrop of snowless Sierra mountains?
β
it was almost premonitory
how I didn't want to mount the lady beast to begin with; how
that Sunday, while mom slipped in for a quick shower, I downed Cap'n
Crunch like all-you-can-eat desire before realizing
the milk had gone sour. It'll be fun mom said. I'd've killed
to ride a horse when I was your age she lectured lovingly.
Still, it seemed unsound to subjugate this divine wildling
for amusement's sake the day after celebrating our own freedom.
But what do kids know about independence and horse business?
I was three-fourths flung, curdling belly and all, when the far-from-bright
boys next-door decided to let loose all their leftover explosives.
I imagined my still-growing skeleton shattered across the white dirt,
bleeding red underneath a cloudless blue sky ββ before summersaulting
away from where my body would have been had I tried to tame
the animal-tempest ten jillion times greater than me.
β
In the aftermath,
while horse-girl Grace apologized profusely for the American Paint's
unladylike behavior, I thanked the horse gods, and the real gods
for those three years of gymnastics mom insisted would pay off down
the line. Ruminating longer than an eleven year-old is accustomed to:
the way the horse looked at me, perspicaciously, like we had Botvinnik'd
death's gambit; how my life could have been cut short, gone out with
a flash-bang of onomatopoeias... had mom not been right about one thing.
About the Creator
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