WayneSL 1990

My breath smokes out past eyes that roll toward your scent
mixing with the steam that rises from my flanks,
the blanket off.

My nostrils flare to catch your musk,
my haunches twitch
and I await your mounting.

Grip firm the horn to gain your seat,
leg high and heave
to settle in my saddle.

Ride me as a well-bred dame her stallion does:
shoulders open, back erect and arching,
posting high and hard.

Let me gallop to start and to work up a lather,
and stand in the stirrups awhile and then
taking a fist full of reins and mane

clamp your thighs and force me to a rolling  canter,
holding back the trembling tension
eager for the sprint,
and then we

take the hurdles as one creature,
flow and surge through turn and straight,
strain and ache together ‘til we
catch sight of the final gate.

Now in furious headlong flight
we hurtle down the homeward stretch.

Bend low to taste my salty mane.
Hear the roaring of my breath.

The pounding thrusting gallop throws us forward to the precipice
until with one last lunge we leap the river
and for one eternal moment
float outside of time and space.

My flanks and your legs
brushing bushes and tall grass
sweat and dewdrops mingle

heaving chest and pounding pulse
settle to a glowing bond.

Thunder echoes
deep vibrations
shiver, crest and tingle:
wind-blown ripples on the pond.

Fire Horse


By WayneSL, from photos taken in Lancaster, CA

WayneSL 2013

I watch you ride by and envy you the thrill
yet if I could knock you out of that saddle
still I would not.
You grip the rope;
your hand is white with wrapped windings
binding you to the arching, heaving flame.
You breathe long and steady through clenched teeth.
In tense smile density
Choked to thicken the mix
throttled to endure.

Then back to idle when the heat arrives.
I have no license, don’t even know the gears.
I have felt that mane, those flanks
those hooves.
Ride on, and may you never fall
though this iron horse can never be tamed.