Charlie Horse (1 of 1) - Version 7

when I ride give

me not a saddle

but the force of

blood-filled muscles

moving against

my thighs and salt-

wet hair rubbing

moist threads from jeans


let me not ride to

save myself from

walking but to

fill with wind and

thunder as we

gallop pressed so

close hooves and

breath are mine


Thank you to the editor of Something Like Homesickness for first publishing this poem. Thank you N. Garvin for your beautiful photo of Charly.