When the old mare collapsed
between the shafts of the milk wagon

and the wagon driver leaped
to the ground cursing

the tallest trees leaned forward
as if to better see

my teachers call the house
your son they said

too young to wonder
what’s worse as I was punched

in the head and slapped
the anger of the man slashing at it

with a whip or its wish
to get up again and go on

Howie Good