Aleph is quick to pull a load;
it spears a wound, gouges, gores,
leaves a gash across the skin.
Aleph can plow a hard row,
its legs churn, its shoulders roar,
its hooves pound out a rhythm.
It heaves and pitches, muscles taut
like knotted rope. In its blood
redemption courses, and its bones
are all unbroken. Its nerves are hot
with pain. It’s not afraid of mud.
It could tow away a large stone,
a slab across an empty tomb,
and on the third day, newly bloom.