• Vol. 09
  • Chapter 02
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I canter warhorse, gymkhana, flat,
plod gentle shire to knacker’s yard,
see mafioso, bed sheet lump,
fear leap school gym, humiliate,
but then I’m calmed, that skin deep mane,
patina, copper oxide melt;
bow before that pastel fade,
though nuzzle-line too sharp defined.

I seek some balance, counterweight,
see fierce outline of contoured shape,
without a height, hand measurement,
my palm moves out to pat, smooth, pat,
stroke forelock, ear flick, ruffle cheek,
run fingers through main rivulets,

As lad from city, engine size,
harness nag of rag and bone,
bridle, blinkers, nosebag sack,
floral displays in stoneware troughs –
teen foreign field of TV turf,
tic tac man in dodgy trade,
airing clothes, rickety horse,
I’ve no affection for the breed.
Poor reproductions from Camargue,
posh cousins in the pony club,
their elders, redcoats, horn and steeds –
so why should this beguile my needs?