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.