Dream of the Wild Horses

By Kathleen Ellis

Years ago, I fell in love with a man
in a movie, a man who was a movie.

We rendevouzed every night that spring
to watch our love play out on screen.

When Daunaunt’s film played, the wild
horses splashed and pranced along

the Camargue shores of southern France.
With every bite of the mares’ backs

by the breathtaking stallions, my heart
raced like a wild animal giving herself up

in slow motion, in the dream of fire and water.
How did I rise and fall in only ten minutes?

Now I marvel that I survived at all.