When I was a child, my sister and I would play horses when we didn't have language to talk about what was really important.
It was easier being a horse
who pawed the dirt to claim territory,
stretching muscles as I'd rear back,
nostrils flared, fetlocks flashing in air
before taking off in a gallop or cantor,
a brown mane bouncing against my neck.
I knew more about being a wild horse
than how to live with parents who yelled
trying to tame me.