FIRST
Foal
Lois P. Jones (South Pasadena, California, USA)
Liz Berry: From the moment I read this dark, extraordinary poem it haunted me. It's mysterious, unsettling, blends the mythic with the real and is just so beautifully written. It's full of emotional charge and is taut with intensity and violence.
And that ending, oh my goodness that ending!
Foal
In your next life you will be
birthed in needles
of hoarfrost, your eyes still
in the blue gauze between
this world and the next
and I will kneel so close
you will smell the hot iron
waiting to singe
your skin. You’ll hear
the crackle of the flame
and your throat will prickle
with stars. I’ll wrap your shins
in nettle and this shelter will fall
deeply into zero. This is the start
of your suffering for the children,
yours who became
the wanderers, beaten between
the withers, broken and unridable
in the world’s dark loam. There is
no animal to save you now
no purling stream to fold
shame into, not even the jackdaw
as witness, or a single crofter
awake in this cat’s eye hour.
Revenge tries on its black
bridle then drapes it over
the swinging fence.
Father, I will not take out
your eyes but I will brand you
with the word you fear
and you will wear it
and you will wear it
and give up everything to winter.
poem © Lois P Jones