i've been thinking about this horse who died
on the side of the road between my town & the next.

it was a long time ago 
& her bones are probably in the dirt,
so don't worry too much. let me worry for you.
it was summer & the corn was getting taller
& waving to us. maybe july. let's say july.
the horse was pulling a buggie up a hill 
when she died. the little black cart
was full of a meninite family. they stood 
on the side of the road as we passed.
they were all looking at the horse sprawled out
on the asphalt like a splatter of paint
or a mound of tree branches. 
the horse's body looked abstract 
in her death. it took me a few moments before
i understood what i was looking at. 
maybe i think about this because
i still feel bad for the horse. 
it was such a public way to die in a small town.
though, i'm not sure there could be 
a private way to die here. we all need 
something to talk about.
mom reads obitaries every day.
maybe there was one for the horse the next day.
she seemed like such a huge amount of muscle 
to not be remebered somehow. 
i wonder if it's just me who thinks about that horse.
now you can think about the horse too 
& i can be less lonely in this.
i know very little about horses but
they seem like they know what's going on.
i do know they have to wear blinders 
when they pull buggies down the road 
because they get easily spooked by the rush of cars.
if i were pulling a cart down the road
i would need blinders too.
what are horses most scared of?
they could run away from anything.
i don't live in my town now.
i live far away in a city where there are no horses 
to die. i sometimes want to be a horse
so i can run blocks & blocks & blocks,
so i can be scared & frightenned of all the cars
but i am a human so i have to hold it together.
most of all i want to know if the horse knew 
she was dying there. if she knew she was leaving
her family on the side of the road to stare at her
& cars to drive by & look at her body.
she probably couldn't have known 
but maybe a fragment of her thought of a great rest.
thought of her body laying without any destination
& her bones sprawled out. 
did she think of shade & a cool breeze?
a handful of oats? a soft apple?
these are what i want too. i want hands 
to reach out & offer me comfort.
i love that big beautiful dead horse.
they had to move it from the road 
with a fork-lift borrowed 
from the battery factory across the street.
the body of the horse 
in the grass by the corn. the corn
waving goodbye to the horse.
another buggie came along & picked up the family.
maybe they cried for the horse 
or maybe they swallowed & swallowed & swallowed.
it's been years since i could cry about the horse
but tonight i got myself there again
by thinking about all those bones
& the horse's big eyelashes. 
i have to cry about something & 
i like to cry about the horse because it's easy.
if i start crying about climate change 
or dead children or children in cages
or people sleeping on the cement 
or people searching in the trash for food
& so on & so on 
i will never stop. the horse died years ago. 
the horse is dirt now.