T h e   O r i g i n   S t o r y

 

The horses were stolen without saddles. We swam

 

them across the Atlantic. It nearly killed the animals

 

and we were too tired to polka

 

when we made the beach. Here we’ll live

 

from now on—a pen and a cabin inland

 

from the headland, our names changed,

 

painted horses re-painted, leaning

 

legitimate. We build

 

every country mentioned in the histories—

 

rustlers, pirates, escaped convicts. We clear

 

trees around fresh farmsteads, we cut

 

the road ruts. That brute muscle-work

 

slowly purifies 

 

what was sullied by the thefts,

 

the flights from our first homes, the decision 

 

to swim an entire ocean, once.

 

 

 

 

r h p   h o m e

 

 

T o d d   M e r c e r


cover

copyright
poems

bio