apology [not "about a horse"] You explained to my husband that posts are poems. I didn't. I didn't have to. I didn't have to sneak a sword into the backboard of his throat. Shore up your joke. Two words glommed together. What she termed you. She termed herself. Terminated herself. You replicated pattern of a girl. You whet addiction like a tool. You whimper like a horn when hoses blare. The thing about a joke is that the credits never roll. The thing about a horse is that it cracks. I cannot speak exactly to another who you are. I dress you like I dress myself. I address myself.