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– by Magda Sokolowski

Like a jackrabbit the desert reared up

against the high-cold in green-grey clots.

The cheat of grass, the sheen of ice-ground,

dense & the dull straightaway of road,

the welcome turn – sudden & slow

to find them there.

Three of them: feral horses.

We stopped the car, out there, nowhere –

our stares met theirs –

at the side of the road. The frozen glow

of white around their mouths,

the slow blink of a single moment,

a smart brown eye,

& the freezing breath of all of us –

a coalescent heat-cloud.

Their family looked at ours

& then the shudder-start

in the hind quarter of what looked to be

the weakest one, the barbed-wire twitch

of scars on its flank, the lattice of fence

around our shared life.

I knew right then I wanted you –

the whole of it & then they ran.