Sarah Maclay

Monday Poems
6:48 am
Mon June 24, 2013

"Trot"

White Bride, poetry by Sarah Maclay

A loose translation, not yet quite a gallop, more than a walk: to be
literal is to be a little jerky, rider and horse not unified into that
smooth flight of sweet aching below the saddle, all feet off the
ground at once. Well, another hour goes by. You'll need it. But it
gives you the idea—lap slapping against leather or, bareback, the
soft hair below the mane, yet it's not a place you can stay for long,
breath beginning to move in response to the horse's footsteps—
even more involuntary, a quick exhalation, a little feat of being

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