I’ll wait until you tell me
the end of your dream.
for now, the horses remain buried
up to their sleek stomachs
in the darkest tar.
I woke up standing
in the kitchen.
I imagined glass
shattered at my feet.
No blood, no slices
between toes.
I must have heard
your horses whinnying,
calling out for someone
to help them out
of place so black.
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