Carousel

Two by two,
the quiet horses
circle above the ground,
quick red, blue, and brown.
So extravagant. So heroic.
Front legs raised, high heads thrown back,
the eye of the eyes still defiant
the mouth ready finally to speak.
The wound muscle’s intention clear--
first the long fields, then mountains, then sky.
But then to be turned to wood
at the moment they were most insistent.
Now loud children ride the punished horses
as the happy music turns.
Up and down the
still horses go
around.