Three Poems after Jules Supervielle

Riderless Horses

Once there was a cavalry troop,
long dispersed.
The horses would soak their necks in the future
so they could gallop on and on.

They were wild and tireless.

Sleek black, fearful,
they'd run in all directions,
spin round in circles,
stopping only to die,
change pace in the dust, and start again.

The frantic colts would catch up with the mares.

So many horses have passed this way
and nothing is left of them
but the beating of their hooves.

Let me listen to the hoof beats of my past -
...