Horseless Marriage
Pasture grows and grows
where nobody chews.
Photos hold in place
mem’ries we would lose.
Taking foals’ first steps,
a wobbly-kneed venture,
supported with which
what-all they sent her.
An attrition here,
a depletion there.
Now appears the grey
showing in her hair.
She cautiously wades
under the cascades,
cataracts of her past
in great number.
Each drop a lesson,
stifled confessions,
each a piece of a fleece
that had numbed her.
She has someone there
to catch if she falls.
Someone will answer
whenever she calls.
The catcher she caught
far back in the day.
Positions now switched
like Freaky Friday.
We say “Life is a circle.”
Maybe so,
but is it also a square?
Four the corners force turns
so abrupt they corrupt,
pulling so hard that we tear.