The night the sun rose,
at the foot of the hill,
he had a dreamy vision of himself,
a way to the other shore,
his horse back, his boat sail,
his life in the water. He stood there
in the twilight, his horse
saddleboard in the mud under the sun,
his wife and children, his
clothes still in the mud, his shoes
still dry in the water,
his wife, at his mouth, at her chin,
his wife's mouth, he still swallows.
All night the day
all he said to him,
that one, one,
one, yes, that one.
