A Dream

I swim clothed through water cold and black. I am in a marsh or swamp of some kind and I push through roots and stalks and detritus. To my left, I believe, is the end of the world. I can see abandoned houses, but they are off the map, beyond the border, unreachable. One sits closer to me than the rest. Laid over the edge of the front porch, its neck arched, head resting on the bottom step, is a horse recently dead. I look behind me and see other horses struggling through the water towards me. Though they struggle, they seem at peace. I struggle, too.

I step gingerly through woods newly clothed in snow. The world is now devoid of color. We do not walk together. We do not often walk together. You are always ahead. I trample the imprints your shoe has pushed into the powder in boots a size too big.