Hagar’s Coins and Horses

weather like old friends wrestling in the early taste of the sun
conditions like new mornings trapping the feelings adjourned
sentiments of scattered trees and willows for Hagar and Ishmael

hope for sacred texts opening, but never remembered to the point
to look out for voices arriving with a hint of accurate prose, calm
desire to know what is being said like crashing horses, Hagar’s voice

though might they may be, a farm of luxury goods caramelize
headstones grieve new frightening love with sleeping love-in-idleness
crashing hours like stone stamps rigid and pleased unto a giving plate

set night for crashing horses, for burning the village from hillside
to the sea, like an ointment for a gambling religion walking on land
now set on fire while Hagar and Ishmael ride away to safety, free