Glued on leaves suspended in a gelid plasma.
The riders parted the grasses with the hooves of their horses.
One rider sleeping somehow holding on through the thundering.
You rush out with a predictable camera
I turn all of the mirrors
towards the darkness decorated
with foil stars
someone makes fires from wrappers
of purples, yellows
the shapes of a soldier
in cap, coat and gun
that lifts until
the muzzle barks
lifting the lid
on a cosmic hum.