Last week, we Poetry Friday'd ourselves into the Internet proper with a poem tangentially involving cats. We thought that this Friday we'd stick with the animal theme (again, at least tangentially) and look to a horse poem to read and discuss.
Specifically, a dead horse poem.
You think we're kidding, but we present Aurian Haller's "Novecento, Maurizio Cattelan, 1997. Horse in taxidermy with sling" from his collection song of the taxidermist.
Please note: just below the poem is a photo of the inspiration for the poem, an installation by Maurizio Cattelan.
Novecento, Maurizio Cattelan, 1997. Horse in taxidermy with sling
Instead of boiling down to gelatin,
you swing like a trapeze artist over
the heads of shrieking children. This
is our craft: take a swing and fill it to
the ears with rumination. It will
collect dust somewhere before being
thrown out, soaked up by the garden
like coffee grounds, baiting worms
in the moist earth whose gift is infinite.
Still, not every sparrow's flight is useful:
the unseen flourish to afternoons off
the cliffs where the wind throws you for
a loop. Transfixed, sky and earth
stretch your legs like compass
needles north. See, even the moon is
a hoofprint on the darkening shore.
