excerpts from Free Rein


Something is met here, a strength of will, in a silent quarry,
notch of stone. Almost an absence of air can you hear it? Up to
the peak of the flip-deck fantasy. A window flies open and
something shoots through. She didn't know what she was rid-
ing to this, but now can't get the arrows out. And her little dis-
appointments are flattering to him. Fluttering, all, the way
he'd look, in navy, nice, a suggestion of bicep. Lying way back
on the saddle, Sky, he catches her hand, she tightens the pom-
mel. Certain a notion of safety, that nothing will happen--It's
all in her head, until they spot, What? That horse on the
loose.
•

The profound blankness of a deep trance, the crystal's coma
would now be nice, as the needle, drill, and scalpel scrape--She
pictures the power--Unleashed, through her own gloved
hands, the stallion allowed to work and breathe, up on the top
in large green circles, fields alone, the wind released--Just to
imagine that acceleration, the subtle pressure, leather, re-
sponse, and liking that, just right between, while the others
walked and knew not. She rose--Flew, over pain all bruised
and roses swollen, to loosen the bands that clench the teeth,
calming down with talk and pat, to await the golden awaited
day, when the face is freed like the moon floats, over the fields
and rounds of hay, the memory filled with the smell of leaves
pressed dark with fruit and corn fermenting, trees raked, and
the air reborn, renata to you, who never was even half afraid
by the boot caught trapped in the steel stirrup, the power of all
unspoken words, while sighting that trail of glittering se-
quence, that leads, when followed, to dangerous knowledge.

•

And now has come the season of stain. She feels it blaze to-
wards some last chance and tries to catch the meaning fast. The
glorious bursts out--Tree shaped, in dazzling dress, while the
small hill on which she stands seems to nearly crumble. Look,
there is such mercy above color and grateful water, a body that
can move, towards an honesty that has to ask for the ability
again, to hear it right--What shines? Behind those leaves
that fire and blind us, caught as we are, too far, too close--Ah,
Great Love can open us. Let us see our lives for what they are,
yet nurture a call for kindness, ask that the words come simple
and plain, as food after fasting. Delicious to drink in the mira-
cle, light. Benign, a warmth to wrap her in, before it is time to
wake.

Laura Chester

read the author's Working Notes

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