Look at the sky: is there no constellation
called The Horseman? Because this is our song –
a beast’s will, and some higher distillation
steering and braking as it’s borne along.
Isn’t this just our sinewy existence,
spurring ourselves on, reining ourselves back in?
Track and turning; then one touch – a new distance
opens up, and the two are one again.
But is that true? Don’t they just signify
the road they take together? As it is,
they’re sundered by the table and the trough.
Even their starry union is a lie.
For now, we can do nothing but insist
we read it there. And maybe that’s enough.