The Pale Horse

1

The Pale Horse,
Hooves of hard edges
Suppressed, muzzled
And expressionless,
Is dancing unseen
In the backwater,
Pounding her gavel
On other dreaming pavements,
Dampening down dark
Muffled announcements.

2

I heard it and did not,
Cantered on split decisions,
My three-beat gait too slow
For wisdom, fast enough
To take me far from you;
A carousel waltz,
A question of timing.

3

Today the mallet struck,
Gavel-to-gavel, dust to dust.
I wipe my hands of it
And in an instant hammered home,
It is the end of us.