Hold Your Horses
She’s fifty-six, childlike,
and used to getting her way.
Non-verbal, with useless legs,
dependent on others all her life.
Gets her point across
with a variety of sounds and signals.
Knows what she wants,
wants it now, insistent.
I must have said, “Hold your horses,”
a million times in the past fourteen years.
And it always makes her laugh.
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