When I was five I had two clocks
One with numbers, one with hands
None of them ticked
So I heard and listened to everything else
The door slams and the floor vibrates
The stable door opens and the horses run rampant
I hear their hooves
Clip clopping and leaving dust blowing
I feel the wind and hair brushing past me
There’s nowhere to go
All I can do is brace myself
Jolted by joints
Massacred by muscle
Every night they trample me.
I don’t talk much.
He says it because times are changing
And we all have our ways of coping.
He’s got an answer for everything.
All I have are utterances.
I draw lots of pictures
Pictures of horses running off a cliff
Horses drifting off into a vanishing point
It feels like freedom
Endless like a weekend.
Every day I stick tack in the sole of his boots
Every day the hole becomes wider
I can’t say why but it makes me happy
No not happy…gratified
Like the scale needs tipping
The horses need to wobble and fall midstride
I need to see they are weak and that I am strong