Monday, 26 November 2012

The Salt Horses

The cold thing walked,
the railing with cold tending.
It wore rusting sideburns
and peppered its time then
lumps the road, sugars the lanes
with cubes
palms the dark in the
swirls of shops.
Has a mania for being bored.
Wears alms and black under hair.
Puts teeth to glasses.
Has black air hair.
Uses size to hide beneath cold houses.

In the dark shop those that walk believe
in his strange salt horses.

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