Back to Issue Fifty-Eight

HORSES IN THE ORCHARD

by BRENNAN BESTWICK

The school bus chased two mares through the orchard.
Our parents don’t believe it. Whose horses? Ran where?

Round the mailboxes. Over the daisies. Between the pear
trees. The peaches rattled like juice glasses stacked up

in the cupboard. Beautiful horses. Headed to the lake.
We’re losing sleep over it. Who could they belong to?

I believe in the occasional miracle. That they kept running.
Down the boat dock to the mile long bridge. Not swimming,

gliding over the surface of the dark water. Miracle. Mares
not struck with the hard edge of a rider’s heel. Where could

they go but anywhere we imagine? Weeks after, the children
tell each other stories about the horses’ origin. The toy horses

on my windowsill are gone! A boy known for lying says he saw
a rodeo clown at the barber’s shop asking around. Where does

any wild thing start? Horses ran out of the cedars from god
knows, juniper berries tangled in their manes. Bus huffing.

Each kid on the route has a plan for finding them. Cowboys
with lassos. Sugar cubes as big as hot air balloon baskets.

I’m growing an orchard. I’ll sit still as a plum on the branch.
No quiet stays long. Everything I’ve seen could happen again.

author pic here

Brennan Bestwick is a poet from Randolph, Kansas. He is an AWP Intro to Journals Award winner and recipient of a Glenna Luschei Prairie Schooner Award. His writing appears in Best New Poets, Colorado Review, Kansas Magazine, The Journal, EcoTheo Review, and elsewhere.

Next ( Ai Khanoum) >
< Previous ( Rae Armantrout)