FIVE POEMS
THE OLD MARE
Grey despair
Was on the old mare
Grass turned bitter
Sky a-glare
And gnats like thoughts
And thoughts like gnats
Everywhere.
Her underlip
Hung pendulous wide
Her ears twitched back
Her dusty hide
Heaved with her heavy breathing
And her eyes rolled ominously
To one side.
The mule colt lay
In trampled grass
Slick-tailed long-eared
Bespeaking the ass
Carried so long in her body,
Born in travail and sweat—
Alien, alas.
But staggering
To unsteady feet
The mule colt fumbles
An unknown teat
And the old mare relaxes and sighs
Finding any motherhood
Most sweet.
