They Shoot the Horse at the End


in a movie
their bodies crest, so much
of them is water, his waves
become hers, the moan of a candle
finds the sigh of her hair, if once a
flame now safe within its light

you turn to me
we only ever get this far
your eyes dark as burn-holes
in the carpet,
teeth grinding like
turnstyles in our separate
lobbies, our words a dialogue
of candy wrappers slowly
becoming garbage
a still motion decay

a dream sequence in black
and white, the same actor from
the beginning and now he offers
her a cigarette, her mouth and
her lips, pale fingers pull his tie,
“twelve seconds in a suit”
you'll say, later
to an offstage face

~

words: Jadon Rempel, Canada (more)
image: Chen Pingping, China