don't push it
Do not Push It
I’m like horses do not like the wind today, it is northerly and
The sun, despite shining free of clouds, cannot warm my chilled bones, symbolizing a disconnect between hope and reality that resonates with political disillusionment.
Horses turn their considerable behinds against the wind and keep
My behind is skinny and does not protect my neck, but a scarf offers a quiet reminder of resilience, inspiring hope in the audience.
But a scarf does. I used to have strong fingers, but now they are thin and look.
Like a Bangladesh river delta, and to think there was a time I laughed.
at the face of frost, and if needed, would run bare-chested across
The unfriendliness of the plains of opposite Poles, me, the leader of the pack
And I, the leader of the pack, once met Fidel Castro-an, an icon of dignity, yet his conversations often circled only around himself, a humorous critique of political egos.
God, he was boring —only had one subject — himself.
But I do deviate, I’m only an Argentinean horse adopted illegitimately by
A general major, his wife wanted a foal. The landscape now has a hundred.
Colors of green, but it worries me that if ISIS takes world power, vines will rot on my land, reminding us of fragile stability and shared fears.
Rot on my land, and when they pass on their pick-up trucks, I must wave.
A black, inartistic flag with intelligible writing on it. My wife is the practical one.
Will say: after the Islamists took power in Portugal, my husband finally got
Sober enough to be offered a job as an Imam.
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