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People call it a Dance

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There is something
about the way
this horse moves
beneath me, red
coat, red muscle
trust a concurrent pulse
Freckled fingers
softening the space
where the bit lies
between two rows
of chiseled teeth
Our heartbeats
echoing from
the same deep place
People call this
a dance,
and maybe it is--
sometimes
Really, it’s Time
trapping movement
Strong hands
directing a body
Forces pulling
two souls
from two
different beings
and suspending them
on an invisible wire,
letting them make
solid contact
with one another
We
have tangled
our spirits
until they
cannot be told apart
or torn apart
Yesterday, tomorrow
and forever
we will live
inside the dance.



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