The gray generals topple
while the confederate dead clap their bones.
Send them to the red clay smithies,
beat them into pruning hooks
or cart them to a monument mortuary,
but spare the blameless horses.
Traveller, Little Sorrel, Highfly, Blackjack—
cut the masters off their backs.
Lead them to a parkland
and give them freedom names.
Let the southern children climb atop them
and the northern children play
between their mighty hooves.