the girl has heard the stories
she knows a kelpie when she sees one
the loose horse in the stream
midnight ebony, sleek, strong
perfect; she wants to ride, even though

she knows she'll be stuck to his back
as he gallops deep into the sea
that he'll later dine on her meager bones
the girl looks him in his ancient eyes
"will my death be fast?" she asks

"are you so certain you'll die?" he retorts
the girl isn't surprised at his voice
she shrugs, "it's going to happen
sooner or later, but it'd be wonderful
to ride a horse like you first"

they study each other, girl and horse
he lowers himself so she can mount him
her body frail and fragrant of factory
she grips him as best she can as he
walks, trots, canters

the girl laughs as cold wind scrapes
long-dammed tears from her eyes
"don't stop! don't stop!" she cries
the kelpie lopes onward, and for the
first time in centuries, he avoids deep water