THE DEATH OF THE HORSE
in the girl’s eyes
the horse is like a chameleon
his hide a rainbow
that bends light and renders him invisible
to most everyone else
cars drive through him
people walk on by
yet when the horse gallivants about
the big oak tree
birds scatter affright
he kneels beside her bed each night
skin flickering red, turquoise, chartreuse
his scent of grass and dust and moonlight
he whispers of his home planet
that he is only visible to special children
for short periods of time
he teaches her the dances that the Quar’tath
use to speak emotions
drills her on species and home planets
talks her through drawing space craft and gunnery
vulnerable points on hulls
and advises her to tuck the notebook into
the deep recesses of her closet
he promises her that she’ll forget these things
for a while
as her child brain fights the adult it will become
but when the time is right
when humanity requires an ambassador
she’ll be ready
she’s distraught when he begins to die
his form flickers like a fast ceiling fan
forces her eyes away
she fights
she cries
she swears she’ll be the one
who doesn’t forget
who doesn’t see through him
the horse says it’s not her conscious fault
it’s a change in brain chemicals
that hides him from vision
deafens her to his voice
that when he’s gone
it’s only wise of her to question
what can’t be proven
over weeks
he fades
he whispers
he is gone
the new school year starts
she hangs out with girls who shave their legs
and giggle every third word
she’s the quiet friend
the one who listens
the one who remembers
when she walks home she passes the oak tree
the birds are still
in her room she starts a notebook
of star charts and trajectories
astronomical units
she mutters through her own equations
answers her own questions
pounds through Google searches
and dusty library tomes
she won’t forget
she won’t forget
she won’t
when the girl sleeps
she dreams of flickering rainbows
warm breath against her cheek
when she awakens in the dead of night
all is silent
yet she listens