on a quiet night.

the catch--physical stillness has always been too easy for me. 

i can sit silent for days, but my mind runs a race that never

seems to quit. the horses, the horses! i can't quiet them,

can't lead them to their cozy stalls. too often the erratic,

whirling nature of the race within leads my own limbs

to paralysis. i stare at walls and dwell in possibility like

emily--only i've locked myself in. doorjammed. i open a

window, shut it quick for fear of rain and the umbrellas

in the umbrella stand collect so much dust. i want. i want

to be the arrow flying toward some inevitable, bright

future. i want one of those horses to leave the track and 

bound for the meadow, drink from some cool spring and

rest awhile in the sunspray. i want some thing more 

than this. but i'm unsure how to open the door.