After a Dream of Horses, I Remember Daniel

My breathing sounds like cold glass
breaking. His absence is a hand resting
where the window was in a car that goes gentle
into the general traffic of my body. I’ve lost
the map, but sometimes there is a horse
who eats hay in a dark field while her daughter
drinks the milk and I know, briefly,
that finding love can be easy
and possible, even as the heavy glory
of this gate to the other world
says soon, soon.