Sugar water erupted
from what we thought
was an onion blade
drenching clumsy
black ants in the field-
sands drowning 

orphan and duke alike
our horses slanteared
blooming foam through 
their red saddle quilts
leaned finally the trees
though friendly were

without cold mud root-
puddle or crude sap
the horses putridhoofed
kinkfaced and jellobacked
stumbled dustily to their 
flybruised knees 

and spoke to each other
canaan they whispered
witcheyed now 
pupils receding
to their boiling skulls
canaan they brayed  

with overgrown ballfields 
sugarcube landslides 
carrot juice hurricanes 
as sworn we the owners
suckled them on the last 
of the Nike waterbottles 

collapsed with plum
ticks junglegyming
from our teeming ears
and, doodling in the dirt,
lifted our heads
let pure white sand 

pour from our mouths
and spoke to each other
canaan we whispered.