What do you do in the middle of the night
when you are getting bucked around and having
trouble hanging on?
When she, and this is not the horse, it’s just
the rider, or just the beauty you are still in love
with, or it’s just the rodeo in Texas or Wyoming
or some other place you’ve never been to and never
want to visit.
What do you do, really?
The respect seems to be gone.
The horse will give you that twist, that stubborn
reminder that you’re just a man and he or she or it
is Nature incarnate waiting to mock you
or stomp on you or kick your teeth out?
But, Jesus, it’s such a goddamned beautiful horse.