☀ Today's Poem: "Poem in My Mother's Voice" Augusta Funk

I was given some horses. And the horses carried
my body from the playground to the war and back again.
They must have passed through my life as children,
the men who ran ahead of me, dropping like small animals
who had grown smaller and more furious with each bullet
or number on a die. Otherwise I was cared for, was given
gloves against the rain and made to garden along the road.
I was nowhere. Flickering mountain passes. Trucks sliding
to the left and right. In my father's voice I said get out.
Never mind I was given some horses. Lightbulbs apples
glasses of sweet tea. I worked for a man who wrote
his name on everything. And the horses stood in a field
across from the hospital where I taught you to hold a fork
in your left hand while cutting, in your right while bringing food
to your mouth. You were born between roads that were
never yours. Crayons and magazines, cut-out snowflakes
and paper gowns. You were given some horses, some roads.