1.
The stallion grows out of my arm.
About to cover a mare, he suckles the wind.
2.
The filly breathes close to me.
I breathe in tune with her
and become quiet to let her learn
the scent of sunlight in grass.
When a stallion swallows her
she’ll stand like a church in rain.
She’ll grunt under his weight,
a torrent of legs pouring down her side.
Poem published in Brushstrokes and Balladeers, edited by CJ Hadley.