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No Spook

The horse appears on the dock

her head round, low

in search of a stranger.

Neighboring pines rustle,

delicately pinch the inlet.

Needles fall onto long wooden planks,

an almost inaudible pang

that jostles an animal

into violence.

The green moon casts a glow

on the last rainbow trout upstream,

an oily fin dangles from her mouth.

Headfirst

she plunges into the image

of her stiff eyes.

No one is coming with the reins.

Posted 04/01/15
April 1, 2015 (day one of National Poetry Month)
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