The Rise of the Zebra

The rise of the zebra hurts the zebra. As if she would breathe fire. If  we put natural gold and the black blue into the loaf of  bread it bursts. Find and shove, open and wound. The oars when kneaded in and then stretched, row. How they bump into wheat on the white surface again. Mašenka! There are three corpses in Gravel Cave. One keeps silent. One snowballs. One conceals.