Reins

I press hard thumb to muscled flesh

as he rolls those big no eyes

slow and hot and soft I run my hand hock to pastern

as he lifts one heavy foot after the other and I see

Soft and feathered oak and cotton for tearing

Ripping piece by piece.

Leathers and braided I grip them as I ride

hoof to sand, hoof to sand

The toughness against the fingers whose gloves I forgot

Hot light and tight chest well as they slip through my fingers.

Looser rein. Loose. Long strides.

That Harsh softness and callused grip

Too red underneath.