Anything You Want
by William Keener 

You walk to your dark-pointed bay, 
give a slap to the span of her neck, 
feel strength in this muscular mare 
whose trust you have without saddle
or stirrup, no bit or rein or halter rope 
because today you'll ride bareback 
and barefoot, vault up to prove it, 
kick off your boots to ride standing.
She nods her mahogany head, ears 
twitching for whispers she takes like 
apples at harvest, then walks, trots, 
canters as you coax her, increasing 
her speed with the grip of your toes 
on the long swell of her back, and 
you go and go with the roll of her 
motion, all four hooves become 
hammers on mud, her steady gait 
coursing within you, back and forth 
across the farm as if she'd never stop 

when she breaks stride, takes off 
in a clean bolt for sweetgrass hills, 
daring to jump the pasture fence 
coming up fast, neck arching back 
just in time to let you grab her thick 
black mane that whips your shins, 
holding it tight as she sails high 
over the top rail and you come down 
knees flexing, feet firm, galloping 
on and on, flat out, so you let go, 
stretch up, hold your arms wide, 
breathing in time to the snort and 
steam chuffing in air, she and you 
fused into one running flying being
while the land recedes and the blue 
unfolds as you race through sky 
above clouds where you can have 
anything you want, and you want 
to ride wind in the shape of a horse.

This poem originally appeared in The Aurorean