Foal
       

Now that I have no other heart
to which I might apply my own,
I polish my mind and polish
and polish until its tarnish
comes off black on a soft cloth.
My god, it's filthy.
There must be more
gleam, I think, and I sleep
so little for seeking it.

Now that I have no other body
to which I might apply my own,
I'm learning to use my body
in new ways, ways I can use it
alone. I run new-foal-like
through the neighborhood,
then laugh, doubled over, rosy-
exhausted when I'm done.
I didn't know my body
could do that. If I said
I feel newer now, glistening
like a just-born horse—
and as awkward, as startled—
could you see it?
I mean, just look at me.

Now that I have no other mind
to which I might apply my own,
I polish it to near-shining.
Thoughts come away
cleaner and cleaner.
If I lean in close enough,
I can see my reflection.
My large, frightened eyes.

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Copyright © 2021 Maggie Smith All rights reserved
from The Southern Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission