Pasture

To many things
I'm a beast, whipped monster
frail hair and fine claws
no more no less
but I buck backward
against
the more or less mode
of living
call me a horse,
and I'll answer
call me a broken mule
and I'll come
with speedy obedience
call me anything
you want
but I will never reveal
what my dark
blank eyes
see
or why
I choose to
heed your commands
why I still, inevitably
come galloping
into your frame