you enter the room with a violent magic
like the horse that entered the dining room
of my childhood vacation
i can only feed you apples
you horse

kicking your back legs up
i worry you will scratch the wood
but i hesitate to touch your soft
unsure if i will calm, repel, or excite

remembering illustrations from picture books
i have added sugar cubes
and carrots
to the list of things i can feed you
these things are ok for horses

i build walls around you
new and thicker every day
and in the shower
i find my body covered
in bites and bruises
from you and your flies

i eat sugar cubes with you by the pound
even though i am not a horse
and they make me sick
i tell you, this is the sweetest love