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.