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
SHARKPACK Poetry Review 