The Woman Who is Part Horse

The woman who is part horse

Tends bar these days down at the Diamond Dust.

Late on smoky nights

When old country and early Elvis tunes

Thunder from the jukebox in the corner

She pours red eye and beer on tap,

Dances past the hungry hands.

These nights the men are tough and young

And thick necked.

They ought to be getting on down the road.

Got pregnant girls in rusty trailers waiting at the edge of town.

But they always stop off at the Diamond Dust

For a quick one with the grease still on their shirts,

Just to see the pony woman.

Of course it doesn’t show to strangers.

Just sharp cheekbones and hair like molasses in the summer sun

And that way her hips move when she slides between the tables.

But when they offer sweaty nights in the shadows of the big rigs,

Her eyes are horse eyes and they back off.

She just grins and wipes the glasses they abandon.

Two o’clock means end of shift,

Cold stars and the hard road up the hill

Just waiting for hooves.

When she locks up those doors

She’ll gallop to the moon.

Behind the Scenes: "The Woman Who is Part Horse" first appeared in an anthology called Southwestern Women: New Voices. When I read it in a Tucson bookstore at an event celebrating the publication of the collection, I connected with Linda Kohanov, author of The Tao of Equus, a book about women, power, and horses. She wanted to use the poem in the introduction to her book. Her publishers had other ideas, but I'm pleased she saw that spirit in this piece.