He always reminded her of a horse,
a young horse,
knees still knobbly,
hiding his eyes behind a flop of mane.
She thought he hid his eyes because
they gave away too much.
She could see the hope and hurt
in them when he turned to her
So uncertain, he wanted to follow someone
and it couldn’t be his mother
who he’d mimicked for so long,
it couldn’t be his father
distant, too busy with his work
he trailed behind the bigger boys,
but they only laughed.
And even she kicked him away,
like an angry boss mare
left him to wander the fringe
looking for a way in.