Dead Horse Dying
The corpse lies solidly on the
Glistening grass, an innocent soul
Lies shivering somewhere within.
Wailing eyes roll in their sockets,
Searching our vacant faces for the
Flickering visage of a strange
Inexorable companion.
Streams of blood drip from flared
Nostrils, where ragged gusts of golden
Air surge with painful protestation.
A perpetual drizzle hangs in
The sky, a vast billowing curtain
Which flaps on the threshold
Of a small doorway to silence.