Wild Ride

photo from Creative Commons license CC0Riding like a madwoman
across my own eyes.
Dreaming.

The dragging, damp weight
sweet with sweat,
pungent with life and lies,
with breasts and thighs.

Hair, like a thousand
leaden strands
swinging wide, not streaming
as they should.

Between my knees the leather
creaks, the horseflesh
slickens, gleams,
lathers impossibly like a sponge
to clean my tack,
my touch,
and me.

Breath burns in me and in the beast
beneath me, burns out the beast
inside me.
The unreachable goal: to burn it
clean away.
I’ll settle
for an hour or two.

What price a wild, reckless ride,
if it brings a silence?

 

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7 Comments

  1. This is wonderfully written. (-:

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  2. Beautiful!

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