Hear the whisper
of the red horse.
The voice—
shockingly quiet
amid the tumult
of my flurried heart.
My ears twitched.
My soul froze.
Disquiet roaring,
breath hissing
in sizzling
summer sibilance.
Was it the tree,
kneeling so close,
murmuring apocalyptic truths—
rasping leaves
unfurling horrors?
Does Dionysus
invoke Wakan Tanka?
My near-empty glass noticed,
almost shattered in shock,
now lazing forlornly
by my empty hand.
Groggy, yes—
dazzled by the egregious sun,
thrusting its golden shaft
into my eyes.
I shuddered again
in the violation.
And so—
behold the fiery red one,
come to take peace from the earth,
slaughtering slumber
with weaponised want.
Rattled
and dumbfounded,
distressed
and dismayed,
we all watch
and wait
for the damnable day.