Excuse me while I wring this long swim out of my hair, Equestrian & The cape
by Sarah Sloat
[ poetry - march 08 ]
Excuse me while I wring this long swim out of my hair
I am of two minds
and have been loved by 300 lovers.
I have 1 million bookmarks
and where the hell
are they all now.
Equestrian
The horse lodged in the radiator
has busted loose again.
His ribs glint, twisting
from the bolted stall.
Hooves come trampling; fences
crack below him; rocks smoke
to the horseshoe. He gallops
through plumbing's distant
waterfalls, into rooms warm
as photographs of bearded Cubans,
homes where children play
with matchsticks and tinder.
This room should be toasty
as mown hay in summer,
but on return, the horse's heat
is spent, and I must mount
the backdoor draft, bridle
and ride it into morning.
The cape
The wind is my little cape,
all smoke-ring theatrical.
The cape is my wing,
steering me onto 4th street,
into weekends and kiosks.
Once the clasp's fastened,
it's a small leap to the catwalk,
the bullfight, to knighting
sidewalks with my footfall,
or staging Dracula's black madness.
Out and about in it, shopwindows
reveal my inner magician.
My cape is not much to look at.
Some don't even see it.
I wear it walking
to my day job, and when
moonlighting as me.
