DEVOUT POSTULANT
She gazes at soft subservient eyes,
and gently extends a hand towards his muzzle,
and whispers, What an elegant colt.
His ears perk up as he rubs it against
a longing adolescent master,
he is ready to serve.
She slips a toe of a polished boot
into the stirrup, grasping the saddle’s
horn that’s over the swell.
Then hoists her right leg around
his lustrous loins, planting herself
snuggly on a well-worn saddle.
In advance of a cathartic ride, she
arches her body towards his crown,
his signal to proceed.
One step at a time; first–a
controlled three-beat canter–
three hoofbeats per stride.
Her restless prurient thighs
squeeze his ribs, edging the pace
to accelerate to a four-beat gallop.
As the reigns of his bridle
are wound around her
ring fingers.
She controls sinewy ribs,
and with this bridal authority focuses
on an experience only he can provide.
He takes a giant inhale, widening
her thighs—well aware of how high
she relishes the rise and fall.
Dutifully galloping, like the
lead dog in an Iditarod race,
aiming to please the Gods.
Or, like a hot locomotive engine,
fed with fresh coal in its furnace,
striving for full throttle.
As the organic rhythm builds,
she crouches over sizzling cinders,
stoking the tinders of a ravenous fire.
The pounding of hooves on fertile ground,
induces a flush, forcing the atmosphere to discharge–
first thunder, then nourishing rain.
The ground below, moist with dew
over soaked roots, release
involuntary quivers.
Their joint effort toward transcendence,
feeds a ravenous universe, that rewards
them with a primordial calm.
The vivid purples, blues, and lavenders
of the pasture have been restored–
now the Gods are gratified.
This is the unspoken communion
between a fevered equestrian
and her servile equine.
That night he stood transfixed,
meditating in a tack room, where halters,
bridles, saddles, and whips are stored.
Surrounded by holy monastic silence,
he contemplates his service as a
newly consecrated postulant.
Above, the firmament pulses with stars,
donning white robes, in concert proclaiming
hosannas as to how the world’s bliss can be restored.
— © Abraham Menashe