Judith Skillman

Skittish Horse

I shy away from two canoes
resting beside a pond.
I only want to return to the barn
and join the one who waits
with liquid eyes the same as mine.
Men took me from the herd,
made the earth a truth so dangerous
I have to chew it up
with carrots, 
dirty the metal bit that tells
me where she wants to go—
the girl with leather boots.
Water holds sudden trees
and black mountains.
The touch of pine needles 
tickles like so many flies.
How can men in their impudence
understand my sinews?
Each pound one of 1200.
Inside each nerve a whip.

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