Three horse-mouths bite the bit
and lick cold metal
suspended between invisible houses.
They wait on empty wires,
to bear a pair of pants, a
child’s summer dress high, above the ground.
Damp cloth hung from lips
and dripped
pale fluid between blades of grass.
Remember gritty textures
of linen, cotton, and calico
to savor and suck dry.
As the bare limbs of trees wave against a backdrop
where the sky used to be.
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