I ride a Man of War named Pac-Man,
A roan with a forehead mark of white whale
And fetlocks that beard nobly. He grazes
Where he pleases, when he pleases. He
Is ridden by whom he chooses. He is saddled
By kings. He saddles a king that rides
Herniated and allows him free graze.
He set his armor aside to let his pelt
Breathe. He makes summer sun spring
And leaps fence in search of rain.
He cuts cattle and runs errands
Only for the Don. He unhinges barn
Doors and watches stars crystallize new
Leaf dew hooved by the Five that follow
Him. The moon haloes his mane
As he learns the phases of grass.
After months of war, he has found place.
The Five now bow and beg permission
To move. He has found life in the vision
Of ranch, and eats it voraciously.