“The Hold For Ringo” by Tami Boehle-Satterfield


Clip of a hitch,
Clank of a chain,
Long squeak.
Old farm fence gate.

You are faithful to our meeting.
Lifting your bearded chin,
We see eye to eye
On all matters this time of day.

You smile,
Teeth filled with green goo.
The sweet smell of grass.

I rub the sides of your face
With vigor and love.
Your wild eyes turned on their sides
Don’t bother me.

You walk me to the barn
In silence,
For not the sound
My boots sucking in air,

Clopping the ground
At a lazy pace.
Me and my long-legged old goat,
My friend.

And when everyone is fed,
You and I
Step away from the herd
Like a deal.

I rustle into my pocket
Producing a crinkly sound.
You wait
Without complaint.

Patience of a saint.
The common sense of good manners.
Flat in my hand,
You take it.

Your wild eyes fixed on me,
Crunch, crunch.
And then, the shocking scent of peppermint.

March 2013

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