Dissolution

POETRY

By Moriel Rothman-Zecher

all the while a giant horse has been galloping a cart of trash attached to her back, sushi grass and unused condoms debris of our years, now free I walk a single lap and then another around the vulture-ridden lake still our garden is lush and rotting with fruits and that whisky a clever wind plays with my blouse enters me from between my buttons decorates or decimates our past with patterns that swill like Ohio summers all cicadas and tornados and that horse that you thought was dead even went so far as to call the neighbors to tell them hey your horse I think is dead but of course it was only sleeping we were so new here then