Riding Away

by Anne Elezabeth Pluto

Rich exit out
of the meter
a horse
a saddle
a bridle—
one kick and
the poem ends—
in a long ride
of my childhood.

This doesn’t work now.
I like words
and meanings—
I like puzzles, dreams—
the world burns and I
hold on to joy—
the same way I rode
the horse—with fear—
out of the picture.
This time,
I spin the tale
backwards
I’ll have to stay
and pick up
the broken threads—
reset the loom
and cut my losses—
tie myself
to nothing.

No horse.
No bridle.
No saddle.
Close my eyes
conjure the silence
and walk
no matter
how long it takes
I always find
my way back.