White Horse Black

the death throes of romanticism

 

 

You snuffed out the candle
& a horse caught in a barbed wire fence
one last ghost dance
& a simple flick of the hand
you rode off on a black horse
into the red hills.

No regret
no regard
white horse mane
dripping blood
black eyes deep
pools of obsidian
hooves crunching glass
teeth grinding pearls

What romance is left?
We wear tatters
and beg forgiveness for
crimes too numerous to name.


white horse leaps
into a thicket of brambles
where silence waits
ticking, a demanding silence,
a worn out echo,
a bomb.