Josh Siegel
Thirsty Horses
Elation, when there is no phase for it
or when something else is there. The things that mark out for other places
are assuredly here. On the cushions of a lamb’s hands, hallways are shelter.
Sanctify and sanction your fervor. The only reason for withering.
There’s too much there and too much sugar to shovel and too much gravy
and too much land. And what wasn’t ours weren’t yours. Thirsty horses.
If wirey hair is a fledgling shoot then nothing fast is something
political and everything is something essential.
When pasta with salmon is a park with a swing.
Sprinkle seeds on a lawn to grow over the moles’ holes, like hair loss
in reverse. Because it isn’t tedious or— when god has eyes.
And it isn’t such trouble to trip or such farce to philander.
And the seaweeds of your omissions are forgotten machines.
Lead the sleigh and don’t take directions or lunch
on maps that don’t want to be read.
