Fact-Simile
12
Janna Plant
Dead Horse at the River’s Edge You are not the genus species; that is a gift box, unopened. Thank you, but no. Appreciating sentiments as sediment. What line, the trajectory of the tributary— Coal eye rolling back white. Inside, organs giggle. What minnows say, languaging the structures of rib scaffolding. Fish tales tickle the hem. Dismantle phoneme and marrow. Liquid horizon of Man O’ War, the mane thick with blinkless minnow eyes, shimmering tales drying in the net of fiber. Release the category of horse body— The desires of water molecules. Pebbles bullet the kneecap, watch bones hammered, arrange. Chestnut nostril widens, minnows exploring new tunnels. The drumming structure silenced, broke-free from halter of heart. Un-lace those bootstraps, observe the text: opening.