Mystery

Your hooves have been colored red

dear

they are apple red in the mud.

the stumps of crayons, cooled off after melting,
the ends of bones in seventy year old coffins.

you walk the gravel along the road.
in it, snow

crunches
like the teeth of an idiot.

along the ditch there’s a sale.

A red plastic candelabra, plus a children’s game.
you buy the candelabra, leave the game, later

throw it into the ocean. Why did you do it?

it’s still lit, however, as it sinks.

Let’s walk in the stones. let’s crush glass
in our eyes. burn flowers in the barbecue. Bury this
house.

my brain still belongs to you, you know. you pet it
with your hand, massage its troubled folds. discard it. my god
these things have happened

haven’t they?

the light turns from white to dark purple ever,
and never fully goes out.