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anika-festrog
American Anika Festrog (1977-present) is a Hungarian refugee. She fled from behind the Iron Curtain nation, but it was five years after the Cold War was over. Nobody had told her it ended. She turned to poetry in 2000, after a terrible accident with a frisbee. She lost eight fingers and a thumb. Currently she is making money by working as a counselor for internet cafe druids until her poetry gets noticed by someone to publish it.
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I mount my steed I caress her hard, round reins I pat her side lovingly I back her out of her stall and race off into a new day. We merge into The Great Race and jockey for position. She is a magnificent specimen both hardy and powerful though difficult to handle sometimes. I move with her through the turns, curves, and hilly stretches. We leap as one over bumps and holes. I have never yet called her to halt too late. My friend tells me that she has limits with regard to speed, but as I urge her on, she never makes any noticeable complaint, always eager, willing, and easy in her acceleration. This guy cantering ahead of us is too slow. I flick my head to the side, glancing over my shoulder, to make sure no one is next to me and my steed. With the same movement, we slide over to gallop onward, forever.
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Apr 2, 2012
Apr 2, 2012 at 5:29 PM UTC
anika-festrog
My Faithful Companion
I mount my steed I caress her hard, round reins I pat her side lovingly I back her out of her stall and race off into a new day. We merge into The Great Race and jockey for position. She is a magnificent specimen both hardy and powerful though difficult to handle sometimes. I move with her through the turns, curves, and hilly stretches. We leap as one over bumps and holes. I have never yet called her to halt too late. My friend tells me that she has limits with regard to speed, but as I urge her on, she never makes any noticeable complaint, always eager, willing, and easy in her acceleration. This guy cantering ahead of us is too slow. I flick my head to the side, glancing over my shoulder, to make sure no one is next to me and my steed. With the same movement, we slide over to gallop onward, forever.
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