by Lauren Hilger
Long after and still,
three horses appear.
I am a child’s
corner of that field.
A huge readiness.
I stare into a face with too much.
I contain what I don’t want to say
and exist so outside my voice
why even talk.
The fear like a dark
ringed circle with bells.
The task to touch what exists while we do.
The three horses gone.
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