Arlington Cemetery, Washington D.C.
        —for Alex "Sandy" Cathro

There is no synonym for Quagga, I muse,
as I watch the funeral procession.

Quagga, that extinct breed of African equine
with stripes at its head and shoulders.

These six that carry the military casket,
dappled—more white than grey,
blunt cut blonde tails;
straight backed at attention;
one without rider.

Here we feel the olde world,
the endangered species
of horse and carriage;
of bells that lick the metal hours;
of soldiers still serving
beneath draped flags and chiseled stones.

A colonel once told me
life was simple in the military—
Reveille every morning,
Taps every night.

There was routine and precision and purpose;
rules for chaos;
provisions even for death:

one flag with thirteen folds,
one rectangular ration of white granite,
one horse with empty saddle
to cumber,
to canter
its long legs of loss.

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Copyright © 2022 karla k. morton All rights reserved
from Politics of the Minotaur
Texas Review Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission