SHARKPACK Poetry Review

Horse Head Underwater

Strewn to waste.

Over the white pulp of mouth,
                                                       Stark—

The little eddies.

                              God I stumble away

But it follows
Eating me up by the heels
The Perished

Mouthbarrel now tremoring
About my head.

                              The graces
                                        Compound.

It brings thought.

Crackle and the breaking,
Be known.

Come to pass, I will wear
Your harm, its cold
And generous ablutions.

—Stephanie Adams-Santos