I worked hard
to callous my hands
so I could touch her.
I worked hard
to strengthen my arms
so I could hold her.
She should have known
she was raking her spurs
across my heart.
I sold her horse
because that sad excuse
for dog food was taking her
where she wanted to go—& now,
she won’t talk to me
unless I get professional help.
In my family
a man’s feelings
are no one else’s business.
I told her
I’d buy her another horse.
I told her I was sorry.
I promised her
I won’t do it again.
How much do I owe you, Doc?
