Captive Mustang
by Joanna Beer

A jet black Thoroughbred
Paws at the ground
With ears back,
While circling the paddock,
And neighing nervously.
A man with crooked teeth
With beady eyes
Hair, matted and scraggly
Jeans, moldy and torn
With a whip in hand,
Approaches the horse.
He grabs a double bit and,
Clips it onto the halter.
Phantom, sensing danger, rears up,
And neighs, warning the town,
But the old hermit grabs him,
Then yanks him out of the paddock.
In the distance,
Open plains stretch
And mustangs roam
Free.
Phantom struggles,
But the hermit whips him.
Ignoring the searing pain,
He yanks back.
He rears up
And the leather breaks.
The bit falls into the man’s hands
The harness flies off his head
And Phantom bolts
To where the open plains stretch
To where the mustangs roam
Finally
Now free,
Now home.