I Don’t Know What Else to Say
Jennifer Angelina Petro
The Friesian horse of the night approaches,
In an extended cantor.
When it finally slows to a halt,
May it nuzzle my face and neck,
May the mist of its breath shroud my body
So that I may disappear into the moon light.
And may whatever it was I wanted to say
Be swallowed up into the ground
Only to reappear years later—
As bones wrapped in flowers.