Home   /   Poetry  /   Mother the Stranger
Mother the Stranger

my heart is open country now
low sky on a flat plain

a lone horse splits its hoof
on a stone
hobbles off


mountains holding down
the horizon, blocking weather

all that comes down this side
image of rain
we won’t feel


bloody light in the canyon
the last fist unfurls

if no one remains to grasp,
pull it up,
what good that prayer


red valves pumping, urging
to be no stranger

if I bear my heart as my nation
how is love made
without weapons


not a machine, but machine-like
not a lone horse

but who would trade that split hoof
for bit, reins, the hands
behind them


once I loved a rancher
who left the ranch for the city

who left the city for war
whose bones make soil
for the desert


us, them a history
without names

a storm without cease
without rain
in the heartland


script on the stone that split
the hoof: mother the stranger

noun or verb, I ask
says a lone horse,

Related Article

Post a new comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *