February 3rd and 4th

Feb. 3rd Space to Breathe

he rails against my need
for a bit of space
some air I can inhale on
my own and during the act
of breathing out and in and out
again, some solitary
moments to study my
aging face in the mirror

I cannot understand
the origin of such need
in this case
his need to possess
me wholely, body and soul
every thought, every breath
every movement
in every moment
every moment
in every day

his barbed wire words folllow me
to the close of the bathroom
door and there in
the tiny closet of water
the gently rocking boat, tethered,
in the harbor, the Florida night
heavy around me, I lock
the door, create this space
this time to escape need.


Feb. 4th MOrning without Horses

I imagine they are stirring
in the long row of stalls
beneath the rush
of barn swallows
in this first light that spreads
across the eastern hemisphere
on an Monday morning

I imagine their throaty calls
stall to stall, some guttural
grumbling akin to the rumbling
purr that cats make,
some long echoes
coming from the long stretch of neck
extended to the sky

Jeanie with her wheel barrow full of hay
her order of delivery,
a sort of room service
in a motel of horses

I imagine the warm, musky
scent of them, leather and
horses, burying my face
against the neck of my favorite
just breathing in the stillness,
the bond

today I will pull on shorts
rub in sunscreen lotion
walk to breakfast
beneath palm trees
explore the decadence
that is NAples in Florida
and dance the night
away beneath a sequined sky

and all the while
I will be the odd girl out
homesick for horses.

by karen saint