The Inn of the Dawn Horse
(After a self-portrait by Leonora Carrington)

Come to me, little hyena,
before you transmogrify
and join those demons beyond
the window.

My unbridled dreams dash out
into the dusky orchard;
casting moon-shadows and
tempting somnambulists.

Against the wall rocks
my Parisian toy horse.
His wooden legs yearn towards
the swagger-backed escape.

Behind you, little one,
lurks the pale smudge
of a forgotten mistake.
My buttoned-up boots
have ceased talking of it,
while my white breeches long for
the warm back of my galloping nightmare.