the sound of a horse passing
an elsewhere sound of night long past
childhood night too bright and still to sleep
itching, datura scented, open window awake
with stiff bedsheets drawn tight over restless legs
a brace of angel's trumpets calling them hither
hot green breath snorts over distant footfall
the arabian prince and his queen approach
bolt upright in bed, peering owl eyed
curtain fingered lightly open, i wait
they pass unaware, me quieter than a bat click
the mare leads, maiden tressed, head held low
he follows, all quivering rump, fat belly and black eyed moon
mare tail swish, straw broom on leather chair
a low whiny at swinging hip, footfall breaking
Atropos calls, ears prick and then they are gone
thundering summer stubble clod, away, away, away
towards the white moon skeletons on the salt pan
the sound of a horse passing
an elsewhere sound of night long past
now in brick tin black tar, sheet tossed, inner city night
hot green breath snorts over metallic footfall
bolt upright in bed, peering owl eyed i wait
they pass unaware, me quieter than a bat click
the mare leads, all quivering rump, fat belly and black eyed moon
the dogs follow, one three legged, jinkering tree to tree
mare tail swish, greatcoat on leather saddle
a voice, head held low by maiden tressed neck, footfall breaking
Zeus calls, ears prick and then they are gone
sparking the summer bluemetal tar, away, away, away
towards the white moon skeletons on the river pan
a brace of angel's trumpets calling them yonder
2 comments:
A beautiful beautiful story CQ ... were they visiting the daytura? Or just passing by?
i am not sure but think they were just passing by, the datura was right outside the spare bedroom window and away from the fence a little at my grandfathers farm. They removed one from outside my grandmothers room once they realised that it was what was causing her vivid nighttime hallucinations of lions and tigers prowling around her bed. For some reason they didn't remove the one from where i slept when staying over, we were however instructed to stop using them as bugles.... no wonder i was a busy kid.
the second part is of course about johnny chester, ghosting down my vic park st in the dead of night a month or so before he rammed the police car with his horse in Northbridge Tim talks about. i saw him a few times over that period, in a full canter across Albany Hwy near the causeway, once camped up in the middle of the day on Herron island and regularly came across horse shit around town that could only belong to his horse. We had a datura just outside the back door there too and on the hot still nights the scent just permeated through the house.
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