Wild Horse
I'd like to call you my wild horse
and feed you silver sage
I'd like to paint my poems
with desert tongued clay
across
your back
and ride you savagely
as the sweet and southern wind
through a green and wild Kentucky
I'd like to make you my secret sun
blazing dark and red in the orchards
and I would steal away
to watch the way
your silver belly bends
and bows beneath me
I'd make you my wings
in the foothills of Montana
my lover in the oceans of the world
I'd make you my many calico children
and scatter you
across
the green memories of home
I'd be your hungry Valley
and sow your golden fields of wheat
in my womb
The Bony Ribs of Adam
I left the bony ribs of Adam
for the fruit
of my own
personal desire
Its scent still heavy
upon my flesh
my absence still
thorn
to his side
But now how my belly
hollows and aches
craving seed
craving kisses
but outside the road hisses
and I find myself
packing girlishness
in an old leather bag
love stepping lightly
away from the door
"a night without armor", a poetry book by Jewel
