The Horses

The Horses



When I was five I had two clocks

One with numbers, one with hands

None of them ticked

So I heard and listened to everything else

The door slams and the floor vibrates

The stable door opens and the horses run rampant



The horses!

The horses!

I hear their hooves

Clip clopping and leaving dust blowing

The horses!

The horses!

I feel the wind and hair brushing past me

There’s nowhere to go

All I can do is brace myself

The horses!

The horses!

Jolted by joints

Massacred by muscle

Every night they trample me.


I don’t talk much.

He says it because times are changing

And we all have our ways of coping.

He’s got an answer for everything.

All I have are utterances.




I draw lots of pictures

Pictures of horses running off a cliff

Horses drifting off into a vanishing point

It feels like freedom

Endless like a weekend.




Every day I stick tack in the sole of his boots

Every day the hole becomes wider

I can’t say why but it makes me happy

No not happy…gratified

Like the scale needs tipping

The horses need to wobble and fall midstride

I need to see they are weak and that I am strong


The End

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