![]() Another Reminiscent VictimA Poem by Nobody.Another Reminiscent Victim
I 4 a.m., Monday, I sing to a green field about wild horses. The great emerald face seems to sigh mournfully in remembrance. “And,” the earth replies, “the horses weren’t the only wild ones.” Once, Native Americans, in their bright feathered armor, streaked these lands like chanting asteroids through a quiet universe. Then, the bloodthirsty cavalry, in their bugled blues and grand grays roared behind. Finally, when the men were wrapped in buffalo blankets and bean-farts; when the cricket chirps were loud enough to feel in your bones; then, the wild horses came like sacred ghosts. Their speed would’ve made the Saratoga track look like a petting zoo. Their stealth made God squint His mighty eyes. Their snorts still hang in the air. They are the silent mortar that holds the loud timelines together without ever harming anyone. II Wildness seemed gentler than civility has ever been. I shed a heartbroken tear as I start my tractor. We’ve got to have this thing ready for rebar gridding Wednesday, and concrete on Friday. III If ancient beauty’s got to die, then at least we should give her a nice tombstone. Yo Ronnie! Try to sink that first pickaxe into the heart. She’s suffered enough. © 2012 Nobody.Featured Review
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3 Reviews Added on April 30, 2012 Last Updated on April 30, 2012 Author
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