cloven hoofprints

forgive me, she said,
this landscape is murder
wrists of twilight wring
the septembering arms
of mire, deep in dooms
of love, this motionless
forget and the dusk a
sweet red stain of pom
-egranate we fall, dizzy
horizon folding into it-
self in our dense history
rheumatic shadow grow
s overgrown of weeds
wraith smears the cloven
hoofprint dark and