This is a perfect specimen showing Hemingway’s iceberg theory of writing at work. There’s clearly a big mass of ideas and words on the surface that have a particular form, which is nice in its own way, but the poem’s center of gravity lies below the surface.

The beg example is in this potion:

“You galloped across the mesa on my trusty steed
leaving me to guess at the logistics of riding a daddy long legs to work.”

The imagery seems classic western American—almost Western American Kitsch. The steed though isn’t just “a” steed. It’s the narrator’s, making the author the main actor through the agency of the horse as an almost mystical extension of the author herself, through what may be an unintentional nod to the Lockean/homesteading metaphysics of homesteading prevalent in the frontier American West.

But it’s the lover that has taken control of the author’s steed, which—while normally a heroic image—is now transformed into a cry of bitterness at the loss of the author’s treasured love and transportation.

The daddy long legs-qua-faux horse imagery speaks best by itself. Truly, anyone reading this that imagines the well-placed imagery, can fully understand the inner sanctum if the authors mindful(l) emotions.

This is a wonderful piece—a tulip in a field of ragweed.

Enhance your life by reading this and then reading it again!