I was given some horses. And the horses carriedmy 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 animalswho had grown smaller and more furious with each bulletor number on a die. Otherwise I was cared for, was givengloves against the rain and made to garden along the road.I was nowhere. Flickering mountain passes. Trucks slidingto the left and right. In my father’s voice I said get out.Never mind I was given some horses. Lightbulbs applesglasses of sweet tea. I worked for a man who wrotehis name on everything. And the horses stood in a fieldacross from the hospital where I taught you to hold a forkin your left hand while cutting, in your right while bringing foodto your mouth. You were born between roads that werenever yours. Crayons and magazines, cut-out snowflakesand paper gowns. You were given some horses, some roads.