La Peur des Chevaux
Yes, she feared them
in spite of their large forgiving eyes—
those compact bulging bodies,
sharp-necked, maned;
the strangely round poop
emitted occasionally
(and embarrassingly)
from beneath their raised
tails; the random, indelicate
snorts. Ach! the suddenness
of canter into gallop.
She, of course, was in fact I,
always intent on proving
myself to anybody who cared.
I heard my father’s words:
Always walk into a grand
and imposing room
as if you own it.
And surely
the underside of his stony
advice was my fear. He saw it
in me, and I knew it was there.
I folded it inside the cuff of my sleeve,
believing it hidden.
