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As if the past were riding up to meet you
as if the past could ride a horse
as if the past were a horse wandering riderless
along a dusty road
as if the horse had never been ridden
/
They say a horse is broken when the rider
can stay on
they say the past is broken when you can
let go of it
I have broken with the past, she says
I have erased it from my phone
I have blindered my eyes from her eyes
/
I didn’t know the past was made of horses
I didn’t even call it a horse until now
I didn’t even call it strange
until I looked back on it
the past was a horse crossing a desert
a body draped over it
this is how we get the beloved home
/
Strange now to never hear a horse upon waking
or when out in the field
I didn’t know the past would come for me
I didn’t even call it the past until now
sometimes one gallops past
but no one else ever sees it
This is drawn from “Low.”
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