Hans Ostrom’s “The Ride, The Badge” turns remembering into a physical encounter with a horse. The speaker imagines memory as a palomino in an alpine meadow—beautiful, lively, and not entirely controllable. Riding bareback, the speaker falls and feels fear, then breathes again, as if remembering something can knock the wind out of you before you settle into it. Offering a sugar cube shows tenderness, and the horse’s soft nuzzle and slobber make the memory feel close and animal, not abstract. By the close, sunlight becomes “the old sheriff” and climbs on, turning everything golden and gathering it into a bright badge of summer. The mood is warm, dreamy, and affectionate, with a slight edge of risk. The speaker seems to cherish a memory that is vivid enough to ride, fall from, and finally wear like light.
The Ride, The Badge — Summary
Tonight my memory is a palomino exuberantly hooved in an alpine meadow.
I ride the palomino bareback and fall off, replacing air in lungs with fear,
pushing fear out and breathing again. I hold out a sugar-cube on a flat palm
for my memory, which nuzzles with a soft gray mouth, nips
the cube, leaves lovely equine slobber. The tail flicks out at a fat fly, makes broom sounds.
Sunlight, the old sheriff, jumps up on my memory, and everything goes golden,
gathers into a bright badge of summer.