When I was a horse
— a myth of Montaillou, c. 1300
When I was a horse
I lost a shoe between
two stones one night—
unshod I went on
spurred by my lord
fleeing his enemies in the dark,
never forgetting I had been a man
like the rider who groomed and fed me
I carried to safe harbor,
and that other before, that
beat the shit out of the ox I was,
but never forgetting I had been a man,
so when my horseflesh died
I flew neighing into the nearest woman's
heavy womb
never forgetting I had been a man,
a murderer and a thief that had died in bed
and fled the evil spirits in the night
to anchor in the oxflesh I had been
before I was a horse,
and as I grew in my manly rebirth
I came to understand perfection:
to eat no flesh nor fuck it,
a goodman and anchor of the true faith
in these mountains where I found this shoe
that I lost one night when I was a horse . . . .