I’ve started this one for you-
I have put in a character,
Somewhat forceful,
Who prefers to tell it crooked
Rather than describe it straight-out.

And this character
Dreams of riding away into the sunset,
But whether
He’s wearing a
Gallon hat
And an aged leather vest
With cracks that map
The lonely life it leads
Or
She’s wearing a
Dress that glows in the sunlight
And is riding behind
A man,
A resplendent suit of armor,
Is something you’re going to
Decide for yourself (and for me too).

Can you help me
Deduce what it’s feeling?
The sun is setting quickly.

Is the sun
The direction to where he’s going,
Towards light, to a better place,
To a room with
A warm fireplace
Where his complaining bones
Can get some rest?
Is it showing
That the youth,
The glow of beauty,
Is something she will have
Lost
As soon as the horse took
The first step away
From her fortress
Constructed of solitude
And of years of stitching in
Languid herons
With ivory needles?

Tell me again,
What am I to expect after
My character,
My precious creation
Reaches that horizon?
I should know,
I’ve been told what will happen.
I’m just not sure it’s ready.
In fact, I’m sure it’s not ready.

But what’s there to stop it
From taking that first step?
Just itself.
And I’ve done all I have to do.
I have formed this image in my mind.
I now have stood by the horse,
Held the worn-down harness,
Helped push this moment along.

So tell me how it ends.

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