You
A soft brown neck
Glimpsed swaying
In your stall
Peace and steam
Rise, your odour
A gentle whinny
"I am here"
I pass in delicious damp
Dewdrop and green scent
Boots that crunch in grit
Ankles brushed by nettles

Creeping in at every edge
The sting of my desire
The exquisite
Have, have not
My thoughts
Too much

And So
I imagine
Plunging my hand
In your mane
The tight-knit muscle underneath
You allowing, for a moment
Though unreachable, really
Always seconds from a bite,
A kick,  
A flicker of disgust

So far removed
Yet I persist
At this practiced stillness
Holding out a hand
There's that breath again
The have, have not
The all, the mane
The muscle, the flicker
The cruel bite