Pascale Petit
Frozen Horses
Twelve frozen corpses – one for each lonely year
sealed under the Altai Desert.
You came with your pickaxe and hacked them out.
You looked in my eyes and saw the graves inside –
twelve sacrificed horses with red saddles
and gold bridles, braided tails and tassels.
Tenderly, you thawed their birch bark beds
and proud manes, their reindeer masks
and antlers for flying to the after-world
from that Iron Age pit.
Unearthing my solitude, you glimpsed
its silver coat and pearl hooves, its pricked ears.
Page(s) 17
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