Excerpt from “Ambition”, Pity the Drowned Horses

Young men with sweaty chests and muddy pants
ask my mother for work, food,
passage to that distant win
somewhere on the other side of Texas.

Today the green trees are wet with rain,
and I am too lazy to run. The desire to run my fingers
down an abdomen tight with ambition, is shaky, starved.

It’s been too long since I’ve crossed that border,
drunk tequila, screamed victorious
at the mountain. The stars seem small tonight,
they don’t burst over the sky like they did back then.

These poems, these books don’t ravish me
the way Danny could, the way the race could.