Husbandry

We must break the animal between us
until it is of use. Eyes gauzed with flies

and marbling cataracts, ankles all
spavined and covered in lesions: we meant

to rear a colt whose very thew was want,
and bore instead a beast that never learned

to roister. Do you see what the desire
to desire has wrought? Do you also hear,

when you wake at night, the uncanny song
it makes of braying, makes so mendicant

and gentle—like this long touch which doesn’t
stop or proceed. Let your hand leave its sleep,

let it rise from my chest. Let the horse go
unfettered, string the mane into a bow:

that we might start to play the coda—
the freer measures, the silent rest.