Horse-Boat

there can only be intelligence
in all of Iceland's bees—

the beehive huts, wild ponies
with long hair

who sleep
where there are only stones.
Stir, and stir—

the horse-boat and houses
cut from stone for warmth.
The yellow-topped

heads of girls in a field

who could not judge correctly
the distances the mountains.
No longer thinking

as in a plain. All the darling
skins of animals—

the stack of flattened cheetahs,
the flat bird-body

of the unshelled tortoise
force-fed an orange

before death. Brother king

and sister queen
yell Hawaii, you give them

their Halloween candy. In cradles
where we stick together

I'll not want anything
you have—your mediocre

communion, which is not technical.
But too much

finished—
you are complicated enough

as you are.
Remember when the snow

took us? When the boat
turned, and we slept.

Copyright © 2007 Sarah Vap All rights reserved
from Dummy Fire
Saturnalia Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission