the truth of
the bleeding horse is this
there is no bleeding horse
there is your sister with her
boyfriend’s hands tight around her throat
there are the children
^
what she tells you is
[i]i love him[/i]
this and that he has
disappeared again
that a woman calls at least
three times a day asking for him
what she tells you is familiar
and it tastes of pain
^
and this is not the age of saints
the addicts won’t be saved
or even remembered
and she tells you [i]i love him[/i]
tells you she has seen the bleeding horse
in the first light of day
stumbling blind towards the interstate
tells you nothing but asks for money
^
the same story repeated until
the windows shatter
the hand of god
clenched into an arthritic fist
the room cold where the moon
spills across the floor and
she is saying some thing that
is being swallowed by the wind
she is home and
she is bleeding and there
are the children
they are saying your name
but you are gone
