keeping my distance

when

we went to the barn

once a week,

down

in southern Maryland,

near

Solomon's Island,

i was always

afraid

that her old horse was

going to kick

me when

i stood not far behind.

so i kept

my distance as she washed

the old nag

with a sway back

down.

a scrub brush, a bucket

of suds,

the long hose with cold

water,

and a carrot

in her apron.

the flies,

as big as sparrows

were everywhere,

as were cats

to keep the mouse

population down.

eventually her horse died,

he walked

out into

the far edge of the field,

and laid down.

the next

day they brought

the backhoe out and

then the plow.

she loved that horse,

but i was

on the fence with it.

ambivalent,

yet glad it never kicked me.