Had You a Horse You Would Not Ride It
Had you a horse, you would not ride it.
Had you a mirror, you would not smash or look.
Had you a dropped spoon, you would not be
startled, its silver clang like the far cry of what.
What is grief if not groundwater. What is it
if not. You had a heart, you would not ride it.
Instead you let its hoof sink in the earth.
Had you the dark, you would remind it.
You would not undress
in front of it. It would not undress you.
CAVE WALL PRESS, LLC
Quinn Lewis’s poems appear in Best New Poets, Shenandoah, The Southern Review, and
elsewhere. She received a grant from the Elizabeth George Foundation, a Claudia
Emerson Scholarship from the Sewanee Writers' Conference, and residencies from
Hawthornden Castle and Willapa Bay AiR.