The Horse

It is everywhere,
always everywhere.
I see it trotting,
killing the earth beneath.
Crushing flowers under hoof.

It haunts me,
prancing through my life.

Father, Mother.
Sister and Brother.
All have ridden
the horse, leaving me.

I cry each time,
an accident, rape.
A gunshot and mortals' fate.
Each time they have
taken their turn.

I am 7, then 12
23 and 41
were next.

And now I'm
78, waiting in
my chair, watching
it approach.

My turn to ride a pale horse.

by Blake Foxx

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