For a Farrier
Reading a kind of laborious
poem about rural things
and a horse is shot
for breaking its leg.
I still don’t get it.
Surely there’s a way
to heal a horse.
I text my friend
who is a farrier
(you know—
someone who shoes horses)
I say surely there’s a way
to heal a horse.
And I wait
but he doesn’t text back
he’s busy with the pounding
and clanging.
Raising his hammer
over a bright orange horseshoe
and pausing
because in his head
a line by Issa
can be heard.
