Pulling Up
#1
Pulling Up

I can chomp down on the bit,
encounter turns into furlongs,
but stretch drives don’t lead to home.
Yet pride quick-flicks my head to spy
the other contenders on the grass,
swells me with that front-of-the-pack fast.
Write four letters to race and order
win, place, and show. I’ll take that prize.
We’ll take the prize even when the manes
are lost, and the footing, and the grass
runs wild along the railroad tracks.
I can’t pretend for the alluded glory.
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