Sculpture

these lips will not nuzzle for a treat
this head bent forward waiting for my hand
will not be warm or move at my touch
these eyes will not lift and swallow
all my anxieties and take me deeper
into a place of trust and apples

just this head with ears laid back
yet somehow still I stretch to
run my palm across its comfort
sense the horse and hear a neigh
and I am running running in sunlight
fleet and free and smiling and it
lives