Dreaming, a dead foal represents so much that is lost.
And an even smaller foal beside it may be dead or not
but stands on all four legs, proportionally smaller
than his dead brother laying in the growing grasses,
nuzzling his downy ankles that so tenuously hold up
the whole girth of the little horse.
What in this world does the foal ride? What promise
does birth bear and the death fail to give? Who is
the field for? Where're the keepers of foals that're
living or dead? Where is the sex that was eventually
promised them? Where are the equine lovers and
equine-lovers; bleating the fell foal and toll of the bell.
