Bob Dornberg © 2007 All Rights Reserved
Edgar & the Horses
At the horse track, of a Tuesday, Edgar
logs high-stakes bets. He’s happiest
in a pastoral setting.
women in the city, & knows them
biblically, but can’t forget her.
left. Desire, their lack of it, I
want my hair red with it, she said.
Outside their house, the sick tree sags
with crabapples, suitable only for sauce.
What was their house.
Otherwise pastoral their house a sick yellow under a tree. Red, I want it red she said.
Each morning their exits biblical their fights for God stakes but neither wins this
is their house.
In the neighbor’s pasture the neighbor’s horse noses the fallen crabapples & Edgar wants
to see her face behind its neck
Back at the track Edgar wins big
on a horse named Boutros—
in all the time she never gave him
be so servile
his name only
you spend too much money
she said it more lowly—
on your fucking horses
pound the turf
you once made me want to steal
what I wasn’t given
& then stand, panting
& sometimes still
Christine Walsh lives and works in Seattle, where she is an MFA student at the University of Washington.
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