By Dane Karnick
After the Sculpture by Deborah Butterfield, 2013
Not the tethered rock in space
but the same desert
for this horse withering
in unforgiving light
dragging its skeleton
in route to breakage
with bones semi-exposed
poking their way outside
while joints splinter
the long neck urges
the rest of the body
away from crumbling
as the wind licks holes
from head to tail
buffing skin cells off
the edge of existence
so muscles attempt to
yank the middle ground
between doggedness
and incessant shadow
the way an odd evening
will pucker around me
like a parched Earth
kissing me goodnight.
Dane Karnick grew up by the Colorado “Rockies” and lives in Seattle. His poetry recently appeared in Pastiche, madswirl, Gloom Cupboard and Press Board Press. Visit him at www.danekarnick.com.
Hawaii Pacific Review 