Horse knows not to giddy her mare-hips

     near glassware – observes all creatures

     here are adept; the tender of tentacles

     for smalls, Owl who glows on demand.

     Horse studies pillows of most comfort 

     for most bodies – gets spooked

     by polyester, what rubs off and on

     and thinks of moths,

     of dust not dust

     but scales that hold prisms

     lost through collision with the world.

     Horse isn't wild – more, skittish,

     defends her ears, wears a ribbon

     of sunflowers for saying, be kind.

     Horse wants to lie like a meadowsweet foal

     but stand-leans into waffle –

     sensing, to sleep this way,

     is readiness to run.