Creative Writing: To Bring The Horse Home By Julie Bruck

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To Bring The Horse Home
By Julie Bruck
As a girl I made my calves into little drinking elephants,
I would stare at the wonder of their pumping muscles, the sup of their leg-trunks. I resuscitated a bunny once from my cat’s electric teeth. I was on neighborhood watch to save animals, as many as I could. My damage was easy.
My plainspoken voice is a watercolor. I’m afraid of it as I’m afraid of what the world will do to color. I don’t think I’ve done much. A table leans against itself to be a table. I hold nothing but this air. I give it off.
I want a literature that is not made from literature, says Bhanu.
Last night my legs ached a low-tone. I imagined the body giving itself up for another system. Dandelions tickling out of my knee. The meniscus

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