Equine Tide

A poem

 

Black Rock Beach

 

A thousand angry horses

foaming at the mouth.

 

Behind them is a haven:

the stretching disc

 

where grey Atlantic sea

meets grey Atlantic sky.

 

Elysium.

 

The beasts reject this refuge

choosing, instead, to face

 

the obstinate rocks.

One by one, spines twist

 

and recoil — water, as always,

turning back on itself.