#9 “Reap”(the road to our beach, stolen beach)
The wild horses came out cautious, ears cocked. Out from the bush
down to the edge to drink the tea brown water. Water steeped in
muskegs (muskgee, the medicine place) stained brown and carrying
milky coloured clay from the cutbanks up north, from up past the
Doig River and up past the Moig Flats where we had driven the
cattle that spring. The wild horses came out, revealed one by one
across the beach (our beach) slowly dipping their heads for the
long draughts, their velvet muzzles barely breaking the surface
tension of the stillness on our skin as we watched, immortal. The
wild horses came out to drink, so close to mortality
