WHY I DON’T TELL YOU MY DREAMS

Because in the country you do not live

there are no ponies

A black horse is a nightmare with hooves

his mane is obsidian thistle

& you must hold it

though you never choose

your destination

His eyes are green

& they see everything

You can’t unhear his voice

You will always dread

settling into slumber

to wake to what black is

leaning over your bed

his glistening hide

his hot breath on your face

his shuffling animal happiness

to have found

after so many nights

his rider