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.