Fists I Thought Were Made To Hold the Reins by Brooks Haxton

Fists I Thought Were Made To Hold the Reins

He delighteth not in the strength of the horse...He maketh peace...  - Psalm 147

Catfish, lacking scales, are beautiful

in their repulsive way, but they will give you

an infected wound if you're not careful.

The filets I rubbed with cayenne, chili, salt,

and ginger, skillet hot and dry, then drowned

with lemon. Even the kids, who don't eat fish,

left none. My wife and I stopped brooding,

and my right hand opened with me staring

into the empty palm, long having, if I ever

knew, forgotten when and how the reins

slipped free. I love equestrians,

but I let go the reins, unlike my heroes,

lacking their authority, and wishing now

to lack my lack as well. An unimaginable horse

is rippling at a gallop far away, unshod,

with hoofbeats as impermanent as stars.