NYU Black Renaissance Noire Spring 2015 - Page 93

The Stall 91 BLACK RENAISSANCE NOIRE How we slept not on the open gravel, but in the corner of the animal’s stall. That night the ghost of a great thoroughbred kicked at our innards. We heard the great animal chuff and delight — the offal — and when it flopped on its belly you took me. The moon made a lattice on our backs. We were old, traveling far, walking from barn to abandoned barn. One night we washed in a trough of rain water and dreamed a pig’s dream: the savior we had been waiting for, the starred eyes filled with light, there in the sty aglow. BRN-SPRING-2015.indb 91 3/29/15 11:42 AM