In the heart's chamber,
An unbroken horse

Charges my chest.
High-strung, jumpy

Girl gone rogue--
Her tough-muscle lunge

Slaps against
The lungs of me.

She's grown
A mind of her own

And a hoofed dance.
Making a break

For the split
In my bone fence.
Red Scabbards

you didn't know
when you placed your ear
to the skin of your wrist,
that you would listen to the cells
surge like red scabbards
beneath the bones,

this same wrist,
where your eyes had often
sailed alone with silence
leaving merciful punches on
the decomposition,
then hit after hit your fist closed,
fingers shunned the length
of your trust,

not knowing how to surrender
could also pollute like a death-mask
for the living,
so you let them be consumed
like a corrosive remedy,
quelling only when they can
no longer extract those amorphous
red scabbards--