She scared herself on her horse today,
loping over the mole-pocked paddock
at the Lone Star Ranch. First day
of dry weather in months. The sky,
through the sycamore branches, was
a stern vole. A black lab frolicked
on the hill. The air bristled with velocity
Cars pulled over just to watch her
She was that beautiful moving across
the deep green field on a chestnut horse
Though she knew from his breathing,
something wasn't right. The lab was really
a wolf on the hill. The tourists had become
Iron figurines cast against the witch's wood
His gait was a drumbeat, a human femur
on an elk skin bodhran. She grabbed a hand-
ful of mane and closed her eyes. Mother
looking on... The horse huffing glue,
lunging for an imaginary heaven
