Poem to Myself After Winning the Horse Race at Age Eleven

You did not eat dirt today.
Perhaps tomorrow. Victory
is one thin nacre coat
on one grain of effort.
Remember the mare’s beauty.
She sweat more than you did.

Look ahead to kittens and dogs
and the feasts of wild crows.
These too know dirt
that you will eat.
All living taste
dusty race tracks and simple sun.

[image: "American Pharoah" | Brynn Anderson, AP]

Tricia Knoll is a Portland, Oregon poet who has always loved horses. Her poetry collections include Ocean’s Laughter (Aldrich Press) and Urban Wild (Finishing Lilne Press). Read more of her work at triciaknoll.com

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