Born A Stray

It’s like seeing horses
in a field near 
the side of the road,
secure in wool blankets
flicking flies off 
brown haunches
with slow whips of their tails.
 
Thinking about how 
badly you want one.
How you can’t believe
this beast is real.
You promise to be
a better everything 
if you only had your own.
 
But—
all this wanting
without really knowing 
anything about horses—
Their smell, their size, 
what they eat
how they fear
why they run.

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