Palomino

Hello, dear people of the internet. Here I am with some news and, just to make a change, a poem for you.

News first! I have an agent! Veronique Baxter, from David Higham, is now representing me. It has been an exciting and busy time so please cross your fingers that things keep going well. Veronique is great and I feel in very good hands.

So, since finishing some fairly major work on my novel manuscript, I’ve been enjoying the freedom to play with new ideas and let out all those words that have been bouncing about. And reading, of course, because no-one who writes should ever skimp on reading.

I have written a couple of flashes but one of them kept stripping itself down to images and bolting away. After much wrestling, I realised it was trying to slip the prose and I’ve let it be a poem. Once on the gallop it was far more itself.

Palomino

Forehead on the shining tiles
I mist and clear
my hot damp clouds.

Paw the ground and count
the beating. Iodine
on sore-torn flank.

Ghosts of birds
on milk and silver skylight.
Crawling in my mane.

Come they come in
stalking smiles and
come they come in
rubber shoes.

Use their coax words
stroke to twist me
missy don’t you… stamp
and break.

Hot piss, spark-hooves
skid and falter
hot horse-apples underfoot.

Sack and strapping
buckles round and hand to jaw with
bite on this.

Smear the soft with
ice-slick jelly
press the paddles
to the skin.

Burst it through
the soft-wood cortex
burst it through
the bulge and kink.

Stabled. Tethered
to the hay bale fed
on daisies, clover, fear

that I will jump the
bone-grey plaster
rusty brickwork
rolls of wire.

© Allie Rogers 2015

 

 

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