Book of Horses

Flipping old photo albums.
I spotted her
In the background of a post-wedding photo,
Blue dress, brown hair, unremarkable
Eye glass frames. My dad’s girlfriend
Before marrying my stepmother.
A nurse from Madison.
When she would visit,
And my dad was at work, she’d take me
To the beach, to the park.
One night she slept
Next to me. I hoped
She’d replace the mother
Who stopped coming around.
She brought me a book about horses,
Hard covered, thick, glossy pages.
I felt like an adult for owning it.
Horses must’ve been her passion.
I liked animals and books,
She stopped coming around.
We stopped going to Madison.
Once when she called
My dad told my grandmother
To tell her he’s not there.
I wanted her to come back, but
I learned early to not ask questions.
The calls stopped coming.
The book disappeared.
My interaction with horses
Have been few. They are beautiful
But I always questioned their submission,
Their ease at allowing themselves broken

Troy Schoultz is a poet, collage artist, sometime student film actor, and host of Mr. Troy’s LoFi Motel Radio Hour: The Fastest 60 Minutes on Radio. He lives in Oshkosh, WI, and can be reached at Troy.schoultz@gmail.com.