My Good Horse “Neighs”
A sober saddle for travel,
and a kilim cushion stuffed
with folded gauze for dressing a wound
and a rabbit’s foot for the rough.
A floating water lily leaf
for a journal with one edge bound.
I’ll jot on it when I am moved
to put my burthen down
in a special place, a holy place.
Please pray I get there well
galumphing, Hardee hat to the wind,
chased by the hounds of Hell.
And there I’ll find salvation
where every word speaks grace.
Some fill their speeches with idle words,
I’ll bet on Neighs to win the race.