Today you could call for me
and I would not hear you over
tidal roar or hooves gaining
early morning ground. Oh
insistent speed that said,
It’s Time, and I released you.
When unwelcome gusts
brought unwelcome ghosts,
the fabric of nightfall could not hold.
Tension mounted its broad, tight
horse outside the gate, where
dogs had given up.
You could have called for me
that night among clanging stars
and crashing iron. I’d have heard
you. Why did you not call?
I waited. Sundown. Sunrise.
Roosters forgot the hour. The chicks
they begat ticked across the road
like tiny, neglected bombs. I didn’t start
after them, but let them
go in waves.
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