ON RAISING PERCHERONS IN THE COUNTRY

ON RAISING PERCHERONS IN THE COUNTRY
I want to give it all up
& raise Percherons in the country —Zara Altair

Sometime, when you've just run
the razor along the skin,
and the parted flesh reveals
2,000 pounds of quivering dappled sorrow
the color of marble—
remember there's no chalk-dust Pieta here—
no virgin lap to keep you from your sins ­
but a quivering wall of refuge,
a place to lean your heart against
when you're tired of standing alone.

No calliope Pegasus of painted lead
or molded saddle to tease and tickle the thigh,
but a real horse will stand before you
in the country waiting for your hand.
At all times, keep a circus canopy
of stars above your head
and when you're ready to touch that solid flesh,

climb aboard that broad back, a refuge. ­
When the beginning note sounds,
enter the arena at a hand gallop. ­
Keep the audience to your left,
on your true side—
then your feet won't slip so easily
from that rosined rump
and you'll become an airborne dancer
riding on the wind.

6/16/1983
rev. 1984
Petaluma


outake

the original draft is so different