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 of earth. 

Just when I think I’ve retired,
I see horses stamping dirt clouds
by the woods. They’re neither bad
nor good. I bet the house on every one.