Napalm Feels

I wept like a child.

When I found out.

That horses were bound.

To a finite space.

Given rules.

But stripped of grace.


A shadow cast.

A line not crossed.

Wallow in it.

You’ve already lost.

It sticks like napalm.

To a loving heart.

A long, dull burn.

But a pain so sharp.


So I search for my cowboy.

High and low.

Taking notes.

On this carousel.

Who can free me?

From this precipitous gel.