Her Singing Horses

Photo By Nati Melnychuk

My big sister’s horses are mostly dead horses.
…………Once, her horses were talented horses; once,
her horses were singing horses; once, people said
…………my big sister’s horses had the most gorgeous
young voices they’d heard. Everyone said
…………she had show-stopping horses. Everyone said
her horses were stars. Everyone said they’d be
…………headliner horses, and vip horses, celebrity
horses, the next it horses to sing in New York—
…………but somehow my big sister’s horses got sick,
and somehow her horses got so fucked up
…………they couldn’t sing. They tried and tried to sing,
but all that came out was a gravelly sound.
…………No one knew what was wrong with her horses;
even the experts were stumped by her horses;
…………something must have happened to those horses,
something her horses stayed silent about—
…………people gave up on trying to help, and soon
no one seemed to care anymore. No one invited
…………her horses to sing. No one wanted to see them
perform. People just whispered: her horses are sick—
…………some even turned on my big sister’s horses,
saying her horses were nothing but horseshit,
…………and demanding a refund on all their support.
Most of her horses died out of sadness,
…………and those that remained were sunken and thin.
Some of her horses slept all day long,
…………and some of them tried to be regular horses
but found it meaningless, depressing, absurd.
…………And all of her horses got anxious at bedtime,
all of them took those horse sleeping pills,
…………but that didn’t help the horrible nightmares;
it just made her horses distracted, forgetful,
…………and made them into those kind of horses:
horses that mutter strange things to themselves,
…………and horses that young horses are told to avoid
by averting their eyes and crossing the street;
…………and horses that some of the neighbors now knew
as horses that wake in the night now and scream.