Young Horses

He seems awfully young to be doing this,
the horse with the tufted mane, dribbling a basketball
as if it contained the ends of the Earth, all the old stories.
He drinks from the fountain and returns to the court,
his hooves indenting the wood, a permanent mark
to show that he was here, so we’ll remember him
after he’s no longer breathing, at least not in this
park district gym with mats on the walls and banners
for all the other young horses before him and since.

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