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published in Staple 69/70 Summer/Autumn 2008
The Padfield Horse for Sharon Morris
My stomach was full of half-digested food, not quite enjoyed but eaten for needing food, and I had beer too, enough to keep me warm.
I tell you this, so you can imagine the moment when crossing a field stile after stile, Martin stops, silent, says, Thats a horse. It is white.
I have no night-vision; the horse, standing as still as it can its ears flicking, turning; nostrils enlargening enfleshes before us. Becomes.
If Id been alone, I might have missed it or might have thought it was one of your horses the ones from your book but instead
Martin and I crept through grass to the fence, also white, and offered the one offering we had a handful of Austrian pumpkin seeds.
And that should have been it, except one image endured: two pilgrims crossed a thin path marked out by leylines, the sky dulled by smoke
from the village bonfires, to greet a horse born out of darkness to materialize for them, its ears twitching to the hymns of fireworks.
But we were not these pilgrims, we were in awe, yes, but drunk too and unprepared for feeding horses, and unprepared for its soft rejection.
Jacqueline Gabbitas
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... anthology - "Entering the Tapestry", Enitharmon, a second anthology from the Poetry School; book of the exhibition - "Fields of Vision" ("Skirting Pictures" - essay on contemporary art); and: "Brittle Star" magazine |
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