BY ADA LIMON

This poem was submitted by Lena Walker.
Lena is honored to be a part of the At the Well community. She works in education and is passionate about textile and literary arts. Brooklyn is her home. She’s looking for the moon from there.

Six horses died in a tractor-trailer fire.

There. That’s the hard part. I wanted

to tell you straight away so we could

grieve together. So many sad things,

that’s just one on a long recent list

that loops and elongates in the chest,

in the diaphragm, in the alveoli. What

is it they say, heart-sick or downhearted?

I picture a heart lying down on the floor

of the torso, pulling up the blankets

over its head, thinking this pain will

go on forever (even though it won’t).

The heart is watching Lifetime movies

and wishing, and missing all the good

parts of her that she has forgotten.

The heart is so tired of beating

herself up, she wants to stop it still,

but also she wants the blood to return,

wants to bring in the thrill and wind of the ride,

the fast pull of life driving underneath her.

What the heart wants? The heart wants

her horses back.