Madeleine Kruhly
Horses
It is the year of the horse, Pong tells me, and I respond a horse has
stronger legs than we do. We sit in front of the scrubbed counter,
waiting for greens to wilt in a warmed pan. Pong bends to tie his
right shoe. I count vertebrae like satsuma halves as he mutters,
oh dear, I will fix it, it is fine.
His spine rising northward, I wonder if Pong cares how he moves,
if he knows that I save his steps for these morning drafts. Should
I. It is ready and I do not ask, my arm spread to span a plate. We
rest silent, nodding to pass spoons and collect oil off the stove
on the tips of our knuckles like smaller hooves.
Madeleine Kruhly is a recent graduate of the M.A. in Poetry at the University of East Anglia. Her poems have appeared in Lighthouse, and her reviews have been published online for The Economist and the Los Angeles Review of Books.
Return to January 2016 Edition
It is the year of the horse, Pong tells me, and I respond a horse has
stronger legs than we do. We sit in front of the scrubbed counter,
waiting for greens to wilt in a warmed pan. Pong bends to tie his
right shoe. I count vertebrae like satsuma halves as he mutters,
oh dear, I will fix it, it is fine.
His spine rising northward, I wonder if Pong cares how he moves,
if he knows that I save his steps for these morning drafts. Should
I. It is ready and I do not ask, my arm spread to span a plate. We
rest silent, nodding to pass spoons and collect oil off the stove
on the tips of our knuckles like smaller hooves.
Madeleine Kruhly is a recent graduate of the M.A. in Poetry at the University of East Anglia. Her poems have appeared in Lighthouse, and her reviews have been published online for The Economist and the Los Angeles Review of Books.
Return to January 2016 Edition