Had You a Horse You Would Not Ride It

     Had you a horse, you would not ride it.
     Had you a mirror, you would not smash or look.
     Had you a dropped spoon, you would not be
     startled, its silver clang like the far cry of what.

     What is grief if not groundwater. What is it
     if not. You had a heart, you would not ride it.
     Instead you let its hoof sink in the earth.

     Had you the dark, you would remind it.
     You would not undress
     in front of it. It would not undress you.
Quinn Lewis’s poems appear in Best New Poets, Shenandoah, The Southern Review, and
elsewhere. She received a grant from the Elizabeth George Foundation, a Claudia
Emerson Scholarship from the Sewanee Writers' Conference, and residencies from
Hawthornden Castle and Willapa Bay AiR.