Two Horses by Terri Kirby Erickson

Old and sway-backed, starved
and abused, two horses sold
for meat were bought and saved

by my compassionate friend.
Let loose to graze in verdant
pastures, their heads are bowed

like nuns in prayer for hours—
until they can hold no more.
Gently, gently their rescuer

speaks to them, her words like
a soft breeze, her hands twin
messengers of grace and peace.

Now they will call to her, nicker
when she is near, two horses
that have seldom, if ever, been

safe. Watching their ribs sink
beneath pounds of added flesh,
their coats begin to shine like

copper pots, her face is shining,
too, like lighted windows, like
the sun rising, like love that lasts.



Terri Kirby Erickson is the author of seven collections of poetry. Her work has appeared in “American Life in Poetry,” ONE ART, Rattle, The SUN, The Writer’s Almanac, Valparaiso Poetry Review, and many others. Her awards include the Joy Harjo Poetry Prize and a Nautilus Silver Book Award.