Elevator

She tells you to count to ten

& step into an elevator &

watch the needle spin from ten

down to one, to B for Basement

(or would it be C for cellar or minus

one) & all that time the horse

is shifting from side to side, pawing

at the floor, pushing its long

nose into your neck, slopping

rubbery lips onto your skin

slabs of horse saliva in your hair.

Vast relief — the elevator doors

open into a dim gray space.

This horse is going to step out

& leave you alone, & if it doesn’t

you will climb into the coal bin &

pull down the lid. The doors

are open, & the horse takes your left

ear between its teeth & holds it —

you can’t see it but you know blood

is running down your neck, down

your shirt, & any moment the horse

is going to bite your ear clean off.

Without turning your head

you raise your right fist & punch

the horse’s nose as hard as you can

& at the same time you scream

Let go! & the horse’s mouth opens,

his head rises up, & he neighs back

hey hey hey hey hey — decrescendo

of hot horse breath, & counting steps —

there will be ten — you sprint

from the elevator toward your room,

you anticipate the blue bowl, the window

you will open, dragon you will pat —

your dragon after all, is tame —

& when you look back down the dim hall

where the elevator doors have closed

you hear the clank as the elevator

begins to rise, & you see, staring

out through the barred window

the horse — the horse is still inside.