There's a Black Horse
JOHN DUCHAC NOMMENSEN
There's a black horse in a photograph
His mane blows in your face
Your eyes are hidden
Will you be taken away
Black and white feathers blow across the lawn
The dog is sleeping on them
The scaffold is almost done
We're hiding in the hills
The rope hasn't snapped yet
Feel like I could live forever
Forever hasn't happened yet
The shadow of blackbirds as many as in a pie
The shadow of blackbirds as many as baked in a pie
Passes over your burning head as you prepare to die