I awake to whinnies and snorts.
Out past the back fence my neighbor’s horses
Are restless, have been
For four weeks.
“This time of year,” he tells me, leaning against
the peeling stable wall in dirty blue jeans,
“Mist gets into their brains,
they forget they belong here.”
I watch the mares watching me
Through the paddock gate, wondering
If I brought apples. They flick their ears
As the chestnut prince paces past, his laps
Shortening, his gait urgent.
The phone rings. “It’s the stallions,”
Says my cousin in Montana.
Upstairs I hear my husband swearing
At a stuck dresser drawer.
“Magnet even nipped at Janie
after school last week.”
I hang up, stirring sugar into my coffee,
The sound of hoofbeats in my ears.
My husband is slamming doors,
Stomping. I hear a long sigh
And open the door to let in a draft
Of damp air.
Polaroid by ChaosBang
