the
clay unicorn
my
mother made under a blue moon. . .
only the buckskin mare
listens to her singing
Christmas
eve—
she
snips and stitchesthrough the night,
transforming the bride doll
into a tamer of wild horses
the wheeled steed
my father built—
I roam
from kitchen to hearth
and home again
burrowing
deeper into the hayloft
with my book—
is it rain or Pegasus
drumming on the roof
born with a caul
the filly struggles
to her feet—
my task
to find her name
bareback
and unbridled
I give my mare her head
trudging
on foot for decades,
I glance behind me—
the dusty hoof-prints
of a centaur
near dusk
I leave the carnival
for a moonlit wood
prayer flags flutter
on the evening breeze—
a gate opens
for the wind horse
within me
kernels 1:2, July 2013
*The quotation in # 6 is from The Rolling Stones’ Wild Horses
A rich sequence, to be read again and again. Effective, how you open and close this. My v. favorite tanka are the wheeled steed and burrowing. Wonderful pics of artwork too. (I assume the first was made by your mother?)
ReplyDeleteThanks, Janet! Yes, the upper photo is the ceramic tile my mother made long ago. Wish I had one of the "wheeled steed" made out of a log, legs, casters, and imagination!
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