DEVOUT POSTULANT
She gazes at his soft subservient eyes,
gently extends a hand towards his muzzle,
and whispers, “What an elegant colt”
His ears turn up, rubs his head
against her longing face,
and he is ready to serve.
She slips a toe of a well polished
boot into the stirrup, grasping
the saddle’s horn over the swell.
Then hoists her right leg around
his lustrous loins, planting herself
snuggly on the well-worn saddle.
In advance of the cathartic ride,
she leans her body towards his crown,
and he proceeds.
One step at a time; first–a
controlled three-beat canter–
three hoofbeats per stride.
Her restless thighs squeeze his
ribs, and the pace accelerates
to a four-beat gallop.
The reigns of the bridle
are wound around each
of her ring fingers.
She now controls his sinewy ribs,
and with bridal authority, focuses on
an experience only he can provide.
He takes a giant inhale, widening
her legs—well aware of how high
she relishes the rise and fall.
Dutifully he presses on, like
the lead dog in an Iditarod race,
aiming to please the Gods.
Or, like a locomotive engine, fed
with fresh coal in the hollow of its
furnace, striving for full throttle.
As the organic rhythm builds,
she crouches over sizzling cinders,
stoking tinder of an insatiable fire.
The pounding of hooves induces a flush,
forcing an aroused atmosphere to discharge–
first thunder, then nourishing rain.
The fertile terrain, now dripping with dew,
and soaked with plant roots, releases
waves of involuntary quivers.
Their effort toward transcendence,
feeds a ravenous universe, and
is rewarded with 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 a servile equine.
That night he stood transfixed,
meditating in a tack room, where halters,
bridles, saddles, and whips are stored.
Surrounded by a charged monastic
silence, he contemplates his service
as a newly consecrated postulant.
Above, the firmament pulsates with stars,
each donning a white robe, in concert proclaiming
hosannas to how the world’s bliss can be restored.
— © Abraham Menashe