(no subject)

[mizraim]

The Condition
By Adam Ahmed

Blind hooves run through your head while the light
like a dog through the window you see yourself
in the near future finally carried over the threshold
by your shoulders like a child the problem is you think
they’re made of standing straw outside the wooden
horses waiting for us to splinter ourselves on their heads
they wouldn’t wait for us to find them on the lawn
as on a reel of film finally feeling what it’s like to cross
the threshold as the light alters itself on your face
like shutters on a windy day I said I will carry you
towards the ledge to see the green grass made of film
and the horses that that run as if made of memory
and suddenly the condition of the house altered
somehow by the wood of their teeth that would
harm us if we crossed them we’ll make a fire out
of them you said with all those bones it’d be as tall
as our shoulders you said but the grass itself is filled
with splinters in which we sink or swim tonight
through windows wide as your future you see
the light that’d burn them if you’d say you will
your features somehow standing in the light