CO-INCIDENTS (upon Dec. 27, 2011)
“I could crawl between the legs of the wildest horse
Without getting kicked – we knew each other.”
– Edgar Lee Masters, “Willie Metcalf”, Spoon River Anthology
Dignified spirit stilled
Zil holds herself in check at the end of the aisle
the vet unwrapping my hasty pressure dressing
washing clean of stark red
blood the white fetlock
the bone
stitching the rent as if it were silk
my beautiful sister so injured
the Guest right up in my tears, carrying on
“It’s the horse that I’m sorry for, I’m only sorry for the horse”
expecting I-don’t-know-what of me
she is facing Zil, but I must face her
her Staff worker not minding, but staring, slack-jawed
gaping past my anxious glances
making Zil a spectacle for herself
the Guest insistent, drawing
compelling my attention
with words, bulk, force of will (doesn’t know
better, I tell myself, or care—I mustn’t
lose patience with a Guest); I can’t see
Zil; she is behind me alone with the vet
the gawking Staff
ignores my distress, and my gentle suggestion
that they clean a stall, just one
leave us in peace!
It is a horrible crash, a clatter and shriek
of twisted metal, flecked pink and rust
the livestock panel torn loose, mangled and on the ground
and little Zil in the big Appaloosa’s pen with her,
aggression over between them.
Zil, neck low, looks up, legs splayed, ears
like mirrored paisleys pricked, as I run to her
with her crimsoning sock
What have you done!
and Zil so good
with the hose and with me underneath her
field-dressing the leg, pushing closed
the parted curtain of flesh
the six-inch gash down the front and across
the fetlock
the exposed cannon bone, the pain
Zil oh God Zil
with one hand, wrestling
the leg wrap with the other
“Staple it! Just staple it together!” the
neighbor admonishes. The clinic
has just informed me the vet is
unavailable.
“Don’t you have a stapler? You know
when I was up pushing cows my gelding
cut his leg real bad and I
just stapled it together and rode him down the mountain”
Self-adhesive-wrapped, secure
and royal blue. I hunker stunned
confused; should I
haul her? Should I wait? The blessed vet
arrives, defying her own
unavailability
Thank you, God!
and hard upon, a Declarer
of declarations of sorry-ness for the horse, which
are so much more important than
the brave mare herself
I want to scream!
I hate my attitude
The vet finishes her work and leaves
everyone leaves
us in peace and bandaged and alone
and I weep over patient Zil
fix her a stall to heal in
over weeks of changed bandages
antibiotics, anti-inflammatories
dissolving stitches that won’t
dissolve, husband on his knees, cutting
and pulling them himself with
toenail clippers
swelling, poultices, therapy
My sister will bear the scar forever
without bitterness.
Today’s frolic: Spring is coming!
Scar – 1 year later
Not too bad now, really
– horsebackwriter, 3/10/13
Healing Horse 