How delicate he was, how eerily long-
legged, crouched by the heater in my childhood bedroom,
the red glow of its coils our only light:
illuminating his flanks, his jockeys
shining in the gloom of that miniature theater.
I wanted to reach out and stroke his leg
from top to bottom,
to cry and run away.
Like two animals by a fire,
we stayed crouched in the darkness,
eye to eye.