Jennifer Angelina Petro
Three horses step through the ruins
Searching for God knows what.
Mist swirls from their great nostrils,
A red sun sheens over their riverous muscles.
They move from body to body
Nosing the ones still warm.
As they approach the edge of the city,
Their manes tossing like seaweed in a slow-motion-sea,
They hang their heads low, kiss the ground,