Two horses–look again–
Winged, like cherubim–
Watering at a marble trough,
Ivy in riot about them.
Reality? Silence, bones
Saline, a coffin–not a trough–
And a tale in the main that
Had been uneven, rough, harsh.
I’d have done it differently.
This cemetery makes me hard.
I want to know the Lord who
Stalls, and kill Him. I want
To ride His horse to heaven.
Prometheus Unbound 
I am reminded of the Honda Valkyrie Motorcycle – for a small fee, you too can ride with an angel of death.