I find myself with a bit in my mouth from time
to time. That means that I am bearing all the weight.
That means that I am bridled and tamed. I am
certainly carrying a man— I may or may not be
carrying his troubles as well. The man dons a stiff
straw hat and a lapis lazuli bell at his throat. I am
the deep lapis bell at his throat. I am cool beneath
a tree but hot hot hot in the bleating sun. Hot hot
hot for the stick of his spurs and the ditch near
the bottom of his thick tanned neck. As the horse,
I am between his legs, and as the bell I am tight
to his swallow. I can feel his breath. Right now
he is living.
Adele Elise Williams is a PhD candidate in Literature and Creative Writing at The University of Houston where she serves as Nonfiction Editor for Gulf Coast journal. She is a Crab Creek Review Poetry Prize finalist, winner of the Emily Morrison Poetry Prize and a Hindman Settlement School Poetry Fellow. Her work can be found or is forthcoming in Cream City Review, Guernica, Barzakh, Split Lip Magazine, The Adroit Journal, Quarterly West, Beloit Poetry Journal, and elsewhere. Her current goings-on can be found at adeleelisewilliams.com.
