I came upon her weeping, gray face gone pewter. She held still for me and the wet sponge
pressed gently down, and closed her eyes. Beneath her skin the muscle rippled as a pond does
under water's pressure. Rowing outward, past the screen that windows the view, are shadows,
field's edge, an island of trees. I put it on, to know what the horse sees caged in the blue mesh,
in a realm of monocular vision. I fasten it beneath the throat while she chews the grain,
lips roving in the bucket. Winter flies beyond the cage. Cold's oncoming as the wind cries,
pressing against my skin, whatever antennae I had lost in the generations.
Ann TownsendI came upon her weeping, gray face gone pewter. She held still for me and the wet sponge
pressed gently down, and closed her eyes. Beneath her skin the muscle rippled as a pond does
under water’s pressure. Rowing outward, past the screen that windows the view, are shadows,
field’s edge, an island of trees. I put it on, to know what the horse sees caged in the blue mesh,
in a realm of monocular vision. I fasten it beneath the throat while she chews the grain,
lips roving in the bucket. Winter flies beyond the cage. Cold’s oncoming as the wind cries,
pressing against my skin, whatever antennae I had lost in the generations.
Ann Townsend