Break Maiden | Poetry

Kathleen Radigan

Just when I think I am dead, I see horses in the next yard, glistening. Their bones crack like glow sticks. They honk up ethereal snot, spit pearls into the pool. The minute I hear them pounding down the street, I forgive their stench, their eagerness to deceive. I forget how they left, how they gambled my fortune to dust. What providence! The Lord let them return, velour skin stinking...