• Vol. 09
  • Chapter 02
Image by

Horses for Courses

At first, young Mercury, with wings upon my feet,
to save my soles from landing on the ground
In glowing meadows, following the butterflies and bees
I never felt the end of them, the start of me
Be swift, be light, run free

And then, upon my back a heavy weight
A jockey whipping, sharp teeth gritting,
goggles dense with mud and ire
Tight reins lashing, eye whites flashing
Ears dipped, heart ripped
Forcing to the wire

Looming fences, brooks and acres
Flat white sky around, ahead
And in my mind, the trainer's voice
You can't hate that for which you're bred

In bronze or stone a life is frozen
Newsprint, journal, someone's heart
When atoms settle in the earth
Be glad, be sure, you only ran
The race you should have, from the start