Lit in Progress

Horses bite each other with their big blunt teeth
Saying things
About power, place,
About
The hierarchy of hay and grain and salt licks
With sweat running down their legs, and
the arid wind fingering its way
into the coarseness of their manes
the horse-smell is thrown like kicks at each others’ sides
they circle, feint, advance, retreat,
their teeth snap, dust
engulfing their hooves like ash
their heads shaking like battle flags

give them sugar and pretend

Bosh conflibletating
Shrooshnigle queran zipists
Trying to give words meaning.