His back is not solid, nerves run between banks of
muscle, each vertebra linked to the next, from the
base of his skull to the end of his tail. A horse’s strength
is rhythm, each hoof initiating a wave when it takes to
the air, a surge of energy rolling up through his hind,
my human hip to answer. Allowing passage, his stride
rolls through my vertebra, then the next hoof takes
the air, rocking my pelvis to ripple my spine up the
fragile links to my skull. Our nervous systems in a
waltz, a slow dance covering hard ground, pulsing grace
into my pedestrian body, the bottom of his tail flips
softly to the left, then right, as my toes float in midair.
Anna Blake at Infinity Farm
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