Why does the horse stand there
staring at the horizon?
Is it waiting on some rider
arriving by car from the airport?
Isn’t its grass enough for it
and the freedom of the field?
Oblivious to midges and nightfall
it snorts and hoofs the ground,
tail tossing like a fly swat,
but those big sad eyes still focus
on that bend in the road.
Perhaps it dreams of galloping
all the way to the ocean,
and swimming to that country
where a horse is sacrosanct
and can do as it pleases –
can crash through a window
because it likes the look
of the woman selling jewellery,
imagining already her body
hoisted onto its back.
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