Thursday, April 3, 2014

What Hurts

By Lisa Marie Harmon

It doesn't hurt when she steps on my booted foot
And won’t step off for at least 4 Mississippi.
Not at all….
She’s not that heavy.

It’s no big deal when she pulls the line through my lazily ungloved hand.
Is that a rope burn?
Just a scrape.  It’s nothing.

What? No. My back is fine.  This saddle only weighs 40 pounds.
I lift with my legs,
And swing it over.
No problem.  I got it.

But sometimes, as the cold fingers of reality poke my aging body,  
I realize there may (soon?) come a day
That has no boots.
No ropes.  No saddles.

That’s what hurts. 

National Poetry Writing Month entry, day 3.
Prompt: What Hurts

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