At the beginning of all motion
the horses galloped toward
thirst. A land steeped in drought
excited them. In each country
decayed the myth of origin, in
each people there was nothing
left of people at all. Carrion birds
perched on their flanks spoke
in tongues, saying the last man
will find this configuration of bones
by the last lake on the last day,
the forever day, and be driven
to gladness. The horses knew
what lay beyond their dreams
was meat and vapour. What’s
inside them is like the last great
rainstorm in living memory –
green as the sky and just as wild.