2 isn’t 0
A horse caught on fire
At the race track
Nobody knows how.
It came running
The opposite way
Down the front straight away.
It didn’t make a sound;
Aside from the clumping hooves
Mixed with the stamping
Of sand
Over and over.
Black mane unbraided
No saddle
No blinders
Just flames withers to tale
Maybe like icarus
It tried something
And failed
Down in flames
We’ll never know
The horse wasn’t racing
He was on fire
