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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/360946-Spotted-Ghosts
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by Kamiah Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #360946
Grief transcends species
Revised edit:

Two dappled horses fitfully drowse amidst
swirls of flesh stinging snow.
The winter wind cries as it tears
through the night.
Nostrils flare as ears prick forward
with interest.
The storm gives birth to an image slowly
coalescing out of the darkness.
A low soft whicker of greeting.

Hesitation,
then small hands pull apart
the stiff strands of barbed wire.
The storm’s child slides through,
collapsing beneath an old torn quilt.
Pieces of shredded quilt,
caught in the wire,
flutter like small flags.
The mare prances uneasily, snorting
as her ears flick back and forth.
A small muffled sob is lost in the wind.

The old gelding stirs, shaking himself free
from his blanket of white.
The old horse grunts as its knees buckle,
lying next to the huddled mound.
Soft velvety lips nibble at the tattered
edges of the faded material.
A small hand clutches at a dark-streaked mane.

The sound of crying.
Tears against icy flesh.

Spotted ghosts in the snow.



Old version:

Swirls of flesh-stinging snow,
Dappled horses drowse fitfully.
Harsh winter wind screams and moans
Like last night's whore.

Ears prick forward with interest, nostrils flaring.
The storm gives birth --
An image grows out of the darkness.
A soft whicker of greeting,
A second one echoes.

Hesitation.
The storm's child slides through strands of barbs.
Collapsing beneath an old torn quilt.
A soft snort.
The young mare prances uneasily, ears flicking back and forth.
A muffled sob

The big gelding stirs, shaking himself free of his cold, white blanket.
Nostrils flare, warm air turns into shimmering ice crystals.
A cautious sniff.
The figure remains motionless, huddled.

Acrid smell of urine taints the wind.
The young mare relieves herself, tail held high.
Another sniff at the motionless figure.
The ground shakes as the big horse drops to his knees.
A grunt as the gelding noses the figure, pushing at it.

The sound of crying.
Spotted ghosts in the snow.
© Copyright 2002 Kamiah (kamiah at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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