In the field near my house, a horse
grazes in his own shadow. All week
I thought again of wanting to die.
I watch the sun hit the fence line
like a sword unsheathed. It isn’t
a thought that rushes through me
like wind through a dry branch.
This is the soil I stand on, the gravity
against my feet. The horse tosses
his head into the air and becomes
a dark cloud. I reach out
my hand to be closer to him.