Yesterday he was nowhere to be found
In the skies or under the skies.
Suddenly he’s here – a warm heap
Of ashes and embers, fondled by small draughts.
A star dived from outer space – flared
And burned out in the straw.
Now something is stirring in the smoulder.
We call it a foal.
He has no idea where he is.
His eyes, dew-dusky, explore gloom walls and a glare doorspace.
Is this the world?
It puzzles him. It is a great numbness.
He pulls himself together, getting used to the weight of things
And to that tall horse nudging him, and to this straw.
From the first blank shock of light, the empty daze
Of the questions –
What has happened? What am I?
His ears keep on asking, gingerly.
But his legs are impatient,
Recovering from so long being nothing
They are restless with ideas, they start to try a few out,
Angling this way and that,
Feeling for leverage, learning fast –
And suddenly he’s up
And stretching – a giant hand
Strokes him from nose to heel
Perfecting his outline, as he tightens
The knot of himself.
Now he comes teetering
Over the weird earth. His nose
Downy and magnetic, draws him, incredulous,
Towards his mother. And the world is warm
And careful and gentle. Touch by touch
Everything fits him together.
Soon he’ll be almost a horse.
He wants only to be Horse,
Pretending each day more and more Horse
Till he’s perfect Horse. Then unearthly Horse
Will surge through him, weightless, a spinning of flame
Under sudden gusts,
It will coil his eyeball and his heel
In a single terror – like the awe
Between lightning and thunderclap.
And curve his neck, like a sea-monster emerging
And fling the new moons through his stormy banner,
And the full moons and the dark moons.