I will not ride
a horse down a busy city street,
won’t make it home
before dark. Sky drama
comes in many colors—iron and bronze
in this civil
twilight. And they sound
more brilliant
than I remember in December’s cold air.
I will not ride
a horse down a busy city street,
won’t make it home
before dark. Sky drama
comes in many colors—iron and bronze
in this civil
twilight. And they sound
more brilliant
than I remember in December’s cold air.
When I visit
my sister
next month, I will
think of you
still pretending
your banana
seat bicycle
with string-ray
handle bars
is a horse.