Call Me Horse

Yet another poem after which the narrator (I!) die.


THE REST OF IT GOES HERE
Call me Horse

Call me horse
I bucked my rider
saddle, spurs, whip smashed
I don't know how to be
without rider, or reins
I stand beside a lake
I splash the tide with bloody hoof
I step in, wade, deeper
I won a few races
My rider rode me great
She braided pink roses
into my tail and mane

She called me
good horse, pretty horse
Neck-deep I taste the lake
with living tongue I taste
I take a final step
No raging scream of horse
Dismays this place of peace
At end I’m not a pet
no lesser thing may pet me now
or call me pretty, good
I bucked my rider
Call me horse