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To an Aunt Recently Deceased from White Horses

A gray mare came down the mountain and turned into a little girl. It was what was needed at the time. She ate only apples but never forgot the taste of high-meadow grass. The girl became a woman who fell in love with a handsome cowboy only to learn love was like chewing brambles (he wasn’t really a cowboy after all). What are you now, woman once a child once a horse? Eighty-nine new stars turning in the sky. Eighty-nine bristles in a daughter’s horse-hair brush. Eighty-nine smooth, blood-veined pebbles. A gray horse lives in my meadow, moving in and out of shadow like vapor. I call out I know who you are.

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Profile for Mojave River Media

Mojave River Review spring/summer 2019  

The Mojave River Review spring/summer 2019 issue spotlights superb poetry and prose by brilliant contributors from around the globe. Enjoy 2...

Mojave River Review spring/summer 2019  

The Mojave River Review spring/summer 2019 issue spotlights superb poetry and prose by brilliant contributors from around the globe. Enjoy 2...

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