• Vol. 09
  • Chapter 02
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Like an equestrian
who mounts a dark-sky
stallion that canters on sleek
fetlocks, bones and tendons
sharpened to polished hooves,
I know a purpose that outshines
the possibilities of physics.

I shake the bedsheets
that bloom and float
in hazy dawn
to rest on airy pockets.

Such lines, such beauty
in movement, I admire
the descent
of toe to carpet.
Calf and joint brace,
flex, extend, then fix
a point of equilibrium
on each stairstep.

So smooth, so thoughtless
this cascading displacement
of air and space
through which I move.



Life, within my small sphere,
gallops, narrows, and sharpens
as it draws near the pivot
between this and the next.

Here, my precarious presence
shifts, shudders, my heartbeat
like hooves that kiss-touch the ground
and settle on the fulcrum of my will.

Time slows to stone
even as my empty hand
softens, opens to cup
a stallion’s velvet lips,
to brace his weight
with my own.