• Vol. 03
  • Chapter 11
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The Black Horse

finds me under
a scimitar moon
a concentration of darkness
he turns his eye to me
his breath a cloud
of stars between us
his skin black satin
a moonlit sheen
of planes and surfaces
articulated light
like watered silk
over smooth muscles
eager for speed

and I find myself
there for the wild
night long ride
nightmare to dream vision
our lungs and hearts
breathe and beat
in synchrony
a living drum
eating night down
to the last sweet bite
waiting for us
at the ragged edge
of morning