St. Mark’s Horses

St Mark's horses


the heavens blood-red, painted
by Sol’s waking brush
on the horizon, dust rising
off amassed solders, reckoning
the coming fray, contemplating
this day, their last, may be
grit in their teeth
astride their heart
immersed in death’s bouquet
fingering the wood
of a spear, metal
of a sword, leather
of the shield’s brace, as
there, beyond the lines
jittery equines, snorting
hooves pawing the earth
reigned in, ready to spring forth
all in unison to quietus make
of the antagonist, across the valley


Photo and Poem © 2015 by DC Lessoway

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