I Saw Him Silhouetted at Sundown, on the Big Hill, in that Light He Was Gray

SALLY BALL

                                for M

The white horse is not exactly white,
though his overall effect is whiteness of horse,
white disruption in the silvery field.

His muzzle, charcoal,
his forelock about the color 
of my own dirty-blonde hair.

Large veins lift against
the whiteness of his soft cheek.
His blood moves full of messages—  

he is a system of synapses
and pulleys and generally so like us
with our ligaments, rippling, healing,

our little movements, all the electrons
in sync.... He is a deep looker, 
a soft white bulletin about attention.

Or inwardness. He sees through me, as you do.
He withstands the enormous pressure
of the wind and sky, of being seen.

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