Capricorn, hair, bray, and hoof, eater of tin, biter,
bitter, sister, wilder than tame, not quite
gamey as deer, lower cousin to the caribou,
giving rise to tears and the satyr. O Tragos,
in the night I had a memory of sweetgrass
and clover, a nudge of the brow, a lapping tongue—
it swept over me like a breeze through the rails,
leaving when my eyes opened. Child
that I am of Saturn and revels, each moment lives
for each moment until a recollection comes
in a dream that only wounds upon waking,
when the truth of loss is an emptied horn of plenty.
I know you understand having gained and having lost.