M A R C H 1 9 9 6 ![]() HORSESby Henri Cole | |||||||||||||
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Setting out on my bicycle alone, I came upon the horses drenched in bright sunshine, yard after yard of blue-black ironed silk, drawn before stopped traffic.
With white stars on their foreheads
I felt lazy and vicious watching them,
It smashed in me like water galloped through.
Copyright © 1996 by The Atlantic Monthly Company. All rights reserved. The Atlantic Monthly; March 1996; Horses; Volume 277, No. 3; page 68. |
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