The Old Gray Mare


This poem was a goddess
once. A Godiva, even. Long
hair, horse. Now she’s a little

Stare at her long enough,
you might see the re
-semblance of her old song,
the hum
-ina humina humina
in her strum. The old girl’s

got a few good lines left
now, maybe. But back
in the day? She was somethin’
else. Somethin’ other

than what she is right now,
which is a little tired and a bit
worn. Torn between stretching
her poetic legs, and cocooning
those uniambic toes
in a down
blanket somewhere
and watching Netflix.

Perhaps she’ll fix
herself a snack,
and give it one


Poetic Asides November Chapbook Challenge, day 30

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