Give the Lake a Moment to Speak About the Horses

I have a heart. It is full

    of horses. My mother’s

heart, the horses.

    In the lake’s center,

rain breathes down.

    Someone lies bedridden.

Someone’s brother

    goes estranged. For years,

hooves steep in mud,

    a mare’s bent knee.

Closure is the rain

    dripping over blood-lined leaves

above our dream lake. No,

    the water was never blue.

No, don’t catch

    this heart. Sadness, too,

it carries. Which horse

    do you carry?

That’s what you need to know.