Writers' Corner

Michelle Detorie

2007 Poetry

Author's Statement


It was folly, the way I let the foal
out into the yard. I thought
she'd like to trot the perimeter
as I had done when we first arrived.
I thought she'd like to know
where the world ended and divided.

The fence round our yard, how did
it end? Teeth picked from the wood, from
the floss. When she was gone, you came
out to me, the whip in your hand, your
face clenched into knots. I never
knew the spoke of it, the slip

from one braided box into the next.
You were the branding iron, I the ox.