The Annunciation Of The Egg

Horses smell sweeter than lilacs.
Their buttocks are firm as a chaise long
Their eyes are lustrous as lilies
They canter like a brook across a ford.

Even now a horse is walking over my fragile memory
As if it was treading eggshells in a green field
The field I sucked like soda one summer’s day
Drinking it in with my eyes.

by Sheena Blackhall

Comments (1)

I REMEMBER SUCH A LOVE IN MY YOUTH. THIS BROUGHT SWEET AND TEARFUL MEMORIES.