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.
3/29/15 11:42 AM