Foals

What can I say? I wasn’t ready

for all this too much, this clenched hand

held, this dug up underbelly going steady.

It found me out anyway. Came in

fully formed as a foal, and running.

I brought it to my desk a dozen times,

asked it nice to lie down so I might

calm myself in pen or breath or line,

but there’s no words for the thing except

wild, not reckless, but sudden and coy.

I asked you to tell me about love,

and all you could say was cowboy.