Conquest followed by red / and black and pale—beasts / of conflict, judgement, and death. / But what of this equine quartet—
my ocean like a god never recedes / / but sometimes it withdraws / for a brief breath-holding / leaving the lagoon alack / / the fish gut-sputtering
Mother, I wrote a poem in which I forgave / your sin of omission, your fear of the truth.
Because takeoff so quickly morphed / / into landing, because the sky so quickly became a bridge and then a body / of water
