What is it, this pleasure -
wedding form wholly to the
flesh of another, thrill of
elongating one’s body by the
breadth of something fully itself,
extending our paltry power into
virtual infinity, equine
muscle and hoof the increase of
torso, of leg …
What rapture to join
fused, to trust the
majestic one
completely to carry us
upon its back, not buttressed into
too-cumbersome seats fashioned for
domineering men, but
skin to hide, running
unprotected over
sky-streaked fields, synced with
earth as one who keeps
faith with her …
We, who long to ride on backs of
great whales singing to the
depths of an
indigo sea, never
caring who
listens.
image: worth1000.com
