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Fly Mask

I came upon her weeping,                               gray face gone pewter.             She held still for me                                         and the wet sponge

pressed gently down,                               and closed her eyes.             Beneath her skin the muscle rippled                                         as a pond does

under water's pressure.                               Rowing outward,             past the screen that windows the view,                                         are shadows,

field's edge, an island of trees.                               I put it on, to know             what the horse sees                                         caged in the blue mesh,

in a realm of monocular vision.                               I fasten it             beneath the throat                                         while she chews the grain,

lips roving in the bucket.                               Winter flies             beyond the cage. Cold's oncoming                                         as the wind cries,

pressing against                               my skin,             whatever antennae I had                                         lost in the generations.

Ann Townsend

August 23, 2001

I came upon her weeping,                               gray face gone pewter.             She held still for me                                         and the wet sponge

pressed gently down,                               and closed her eyes.             Beneath her skin the muscle rippled                                         as a pond does

under water’s pressure.                               Rowing outward,             past the screen that windows the view,                                         are shadows,

field’s edge, an island of trees.                               I put it on, to know             what the horse sees                                         caged in the blue mesh,

in a realm of monocular vision.                               I fasten it             beneath the throat                                         while she chews the grain,

lips roving in the bucket.                               Winter flies             beyond the cage. Cold’s oncoming                                         as the wind cries,

pressing against                               my skin,             whatever antennae I had                                         lost in the generations.

Ann Townsend


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