Once I went to a wise woman
confused
I didn’t know which decision to choose.
It doesn’t matter.
You will learn something either way.
And so will all your children.
pacing
this aimless walk to nowhere
seeking
the task that will change the course of this river
with tributaries leading to the unknown
I place plastic on the table
place more silk in iron water
rust attaching itself to pale
soaking up impressions
I wait without pacing.
emerges from the barn’s cool shadow,
clops placidly down the path beside her groom,
appears unassuming except for the spark of white
on her face, the unusual upside-down exclamation
point that serves as her trademark. She regards
the assembled throng of fans, her quiet eyes
belying greatness, how she once slaughtered
a slew of speedy fillies in the Kentucky Oaks
by over twenty blazing lengths, then bounced
back in just over two weeks’ time to whip
the best of the boys in the Preakness Stakes.
Now she rests on well-earned laurels,
meandering pastures pristine and green,
her only obligation in this luxe horse heaven to pose
occasionally for photos and snuffle
peppermints from the palms of children’s hands.
We exchange lists of
I hear the crash
to fall in love? Second grade,
I pined for Ted Ruddock,
confident, carefree red-haired
boy who lived six houses
down the street from me. I got
on the school bus at the first stop.
He got on at the second.
For one whole school year
I prayed he’d take the empty
seat next to me.
Dozens of persimmon trees hide out
CURTAIN UP
(full roving color spots)
