Paul Archer - photo Paul Archer - poet, translator




I was never scared
he'd leave me.
Until the day his horse,
its long reins trailing
and its saddle shining,
by its own sweet will
came sauntering in.

I went at full gallop
to where he lay
with only the shadow
of a scrub hunched
over in prayer.
I dried his blood
on the hem of my skirt,
all the while
he could never repay
this last of my
acts of kindness.

I moved away,
using again the name
from when I came
into this world,
finding a blue-eyed boy
who gave me all
I needed to forget,
darned if I can
recall who he was.

I've been fending
for myself since
then, so now
you find me
sitting on this rocker
out on the porch, when
all's said, life's been
good to me, yes sir.
Help yourself to
another tinny.

Sit here with me

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