A black horse breaks through the snow,
trampling down the gates of ice,

the one who dares

make room inside a voluminous nostril,
take the sorrow in,

make me his passenger,

the one who rears
and in that wild, bending eye

eclipses all that is not will and madness,

whinnying over all that has gone before,
his is the trumpet call

in the inbetween spaces

awakening with breath of inrolling cloud
what cannot sleep anymore.

Bleary eyed people stumble to their doors,

berate the spilled milk and overturned bins,
check the spare key is safe

and turns in the lock, then lock themselves back in.

Garden Gates


2 thoughts on “Challenge

  1. I like the delayed half rhyme: dares/rears.

    This confrontation with wildness goes out on a limb to the ‘inbetween spaces’ where you indeed dare to leave your comfort zone to probe the mysteries.

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