a horse opens up a tract of land

in quiet hours

the people are laying their tables white

expecting the volcano

like we covered you with hats

to shield you from the sun

lovely body on our lawn now spouts

red filaments fountain fat petals pink and gold

a porous bread

           horse sniffs the air

           moves up into the hills

rain will bring ash

peach ash for loam apricot

ash for a mantle

 in dimness

a horse

stretches out her neck

touches her nose

to an abandoned pool

where eggs 'release

from the slippery strands, & float easily about'

silver eggs coming
laxly into
a green glow