Equus
Bright-eyed foal
I scratch onto ancient parchment,
hind legs kicked up,
head thrown back merrily.
This is my foal.
I’ll sketch my bridle round its nose,
take the reins into my hands to control him.
Yet, he will remain,
long after I am dust within the ground,
dark back twisted in the air,
legs thrown out towards the sky.
The white patch between his eyes
glows in the darkness.
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