Piercer

Your longing is a moveable object
Even if you don’t feel it so—
Wild horses galloping from star to star,
Their hooves like railway sparks.
Pull back, says the archer,
Your hand in a ballet with the
Silken string. Two lamplights
Blink at you, like a haunted car,
Then depart.
Can you stalk
Your desires in their 
Daylight, in their indigo?
Can you locate
Them in the dark?