POETRY

By Summer Hardinge

tomor­row we will meet the horses/ after they have run the fields can­tered around us /nudged /

this is not a war poem/

we use soft ropes/ drape shoul­ders and withers/ coax them in/ they will not halter for this/ is not

a war poem/

a drink some oats / a comb and brush-out/ the day will be warm/ they will blink in the sun/

watch/ a patch of clover swarmed with bees—they will not/ be stung this is not/ a war poem/

we rub in circles/ loosen rough­ness dust flies—not a war poem/ we’ll lean-in to each other/ flank

to flank/ but not in a war poem/

we will speak of harness/ rein/ stall shook and break/ but / not spoken as war poem/ we will

turn/ look

for hatch/ ladder/ the release the catch/ in this not-war poem/ and wrap/ arms /around necks/

as if it / could be otherwise /

Photo by Patrick Hendry.

This story orig­i­nal­ly appeared in Stonecoast Review Issue 19. Support local book­sellers and inde­pen­dent pub­lish­ers by order­ing a print copy of the mag­a­zine.