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Intrusive Thought As Horse With Dead Rider

Jordan Ranft

The preordained trajectory of an                   

arrow arcing midair and careening

 

towards a skull. Animal logic expressed

by temperature and twitching haunch.

 

Knocked loose, a grey stone tumbles down

the sloped cathedral wall. Arriving

 

unannounced at the village gates,

the unassuming feast, the very back

 

of the eye. Indeed there is a purple storm

making ragged cloth from the sky and

 

cracking at the teeth of the mountain.

An ancient fold of the mind pulses.

 

Hooves avalanching across the altar cloth.

This will taint the celebrations, make us

 

hungry for every nail in the floor,

will chew our sanctuary down to

 

the quivering stone we have so carefully

placed in the earth. Each crashing step

 

twists a cursive of sparks from

the ground, dissolving barriers

 

between light and violence. Watch,

the impulse rears back as if startled

 

by its own image. Stumbling past

quiet eyes. Foaming at the mouth.

 

Finally speaking a chemical apocalypse.

Every fear confirmed with such conviction

 

the storm is mistaken for scripture.

 

Creators

Jordan Ranft

Jordan Ranft

Jordan Ranft lives in NYC with his partner and small dog. He writes poetry and music criticism. He has been previously published in Rust + Moth, Bodega, and Midway.

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