by Marissa Bell Toffoli.
Gallops circles through time.
Tinny music forever the same.
Blow a kiss, send them off.
When they look back,
will they see me waving?
Bobbing on winged horses
frozen in flight. In sight,
out of sight, in, out.
Once more around. Down, up.
A beginning for every end—
we’re chasing our own shadows.