9/29

saddlemaker 

the horse was a dream of fatherhood.
of who becomes who & who is ridden into noise.
animal to animal, i am only holding on
by the stirrups. dragged for years 
along the orange dirt road. i see card games
in strangers' eyes. ants march, hands full
of urns. they are headed towards a highway. 
he used to tell me to get on all fours
to make a place for him to put up his feet.
pounding leather. pounding skin. roses in detail work.
holy horn. i was the wooden model he shaped each saddle on. 
i gave him his manhood. he gave me mine. 

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