Having assumed it's none of my business
that our cats sniff each other's ass
while I prepare their breakfast, I turn now
to the window and resume the relationship
I've had with two horses who may be
two different horses since I fell in love
with shapes moving horse-like
in the distance eight years ago, I watched
one dusk in Michigan a horse mount
and conspire with another to make
yet a third, the mounted horse
completely not stopping eating
while the other quickly did his thing,
which resembled my thing in how it held on to
and cherished blood, as if for a while
it were a heart, I didn't expect that thought
but there it is, the dick-heart, and weirdly,
when I put their food down, they usually
go look at birds, as if to remind themselves
what the real life is
and that it isn't this one, though for me,
this has been completely authentic
from day one, such that if you gathered
all of my desires in a bag, I would marvel
at the size and hunger of the bag
and want that too, and we could talk
well into the night about how to slip the bag
holding everything into the bag
holding everything without dropping a thing,
like where else could you fit the sky
but the sky?
Bob Hicok


Bob Hicok

Floating Wolf Quarterly Cover_wolf