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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Animal · #932514
Each step, as I walked away, was a bullet that killed my horse.
I KILLED THE HORSE FOUR YEARS AGO

My first attempt at Button Poetry

This slam poem can be viewed on You Tube
performed by the author
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ohV1B9I-FA0
Written January 17, 2005
Edited May 9, 2015

I killed the horse four years ago.
I walked away and never returned.
Every step was a hit; each
resounded fire in rapid succession, although
I had walked slowly.
Just as surely as if I had a gun,
these steps
had killed the horse four years ago . . .

and I wasn't there to see
her die--
and I wasn't there to see her fall
stiff-legged to the ground.
I wasn't there to see her ache
and dread my no return;
the empty lot where my car should have been;
the gentle touch that never came,
the garnet apples for the blood red mare
that no longer grew on shade trees
in the middle of the trail.

I didn't hear her cry
"Where is she?"
"Where has she gone?"
"Why has she forsaken me?"
I did not see her
prance the field and churn the ground
back and forth
and toss her head
and roll her eyes
and worry the fence
what could have possibly
happened
to me--?

I killed that horse four years ago;
I walked away and never came back,
leaving nothing in my wake.
She could not even follow me
with her eye
much less her feet.

My heels, like gun powder,
my shoes the barrel of the deed--
the hole I left in the air shot through
with bullets
that hit home every time
--her chest
--her ruby legs
--her trusting, ever-faithful, loyal heart.

She screams at me now
through vivid dreams
and haunts my waking mind.
I killed those sturdy
twisting ears, ready to obey
my every word;
those wide brown loving eyes.
The vet said they died of age
but I know
I killed them when I did not
hold her just one last
final time.

I walked away and never returned.

That walk, just as surely
as if I had a gun,
killed the horse four years ago--

And when she died,
She walked away from me
And she doesn't know it, but when she died,
She took me with her,
And just as surely as if she had a gun,

Her death was the bullet that killed me.
© Copyright 2005 Pony Tale (ponita at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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