Mama sat me in front of her
on that chocolate American quarter horse
the man of the house and sissy rode
the other great rescue.

We sat high and mighty
in our Kentucky holler.

Those unkept hooves galloped
on gravel past the pond
to the field at the end of our road.
Bluegrass never touched the bottoms of my feet.

Wasn’t long before we got rid of those
innocent beasts.
Mama sold them as is.

Never said
how we were all
turning to skin and bones.

That was the thing about Mama.

She always did the best she could,
never wanted us girls
to see her powdered nose,
always said, “I’m better now. Clean.”

Us girls,
all we could do was watch

her gentle ribs
waving goodbye in the wind.