Equestrians and Selenophobia

The horse
dreams in a

d
o
w
n
p
o
u
r

of proclamations;

feasting glassy visionaries, galloping toward the licking yonder.

The curve of a hip dipping,
revealing the moth-yawn trail, and some
women are born with fear;

born with sharp
English breath.

Born to sprout legs and eyelashes
to the earthen cold like a grandmother spider.

The horse is a myth,
fabled, as any throne, made from a braided spine;

the thinnest of cavalcades, regimental,
oxidize, a thick yarny tongue.

Those horses to which I impale myself upon,
blind to moon fright

less of a lung,
more a riddle rasping;

I move away,
in between the gasping of the storm.

*Selenophobia: Having an intense fear or phobia of the moon.