HORSE LATITUDES
When the still sea conspires an armor
And
her sullen and aborted
Currents breed tiny monsters
True sailing is
dead
Awkward instant
And the first animal is jettisoned
Legs furiously
pumping
Their stiff green gallop
And heads bob
up
Poise
Delicate
Pause
Consent
In mute nostril
agony
Carefully refined
And sealed over
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