Friday, 25 November 2011

#59: Steeplechase Flavour

Clattering through close, witchy forest,
stagnant ditch water bursting beneath hooves.
Sunlight flashing through leaf gaps,
then a sudden gallop through boggy mud,
the slopping of unshod feet

elbowing through a hallway
of dawdling co-workers,
hunched and enflannelled
and flaccid as steamed cabbage.
Jostle for the elevator,
strain against the stirrups of your failure,

snorting in the wet autumn,
skidding on leaf mulch.

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