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Conjure <\/strong><\/p>\n There are no horses in the field opposite, No, there are no horses, but I can conjure them, I do not see them,<\/span> Yes, I think \u2013 such unbroken beauty must persist, I did not hear them,<\/span> so that we might breathe, each to the other.<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/em><\/strong> <\/p>\n Sandra Galton<\/strong> is a musician living in London. She has been published in The Rialto, The Interpreter\u2019s House <\/em>and Under the Radar<\/em> (forthcoming) among other magazines. Several of her poems have been commended or won prizes in competitions.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Conjure There are no horses in the field opposite, only a pale stubble cut to the quick. No, there are no horses, but I can conjure them, their autumn coats, the brisk shiver of sinewed necks in the stippled mist that clings like breath. I do not see them, but I clasp […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-17804","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17804","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=17804"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17804\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":17875,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17804\/revisions\/17875"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=17804"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=17804"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=17804"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nonly a pale stubble cut to the quick.<\/p>\n
\ntheir autumn coats, the brisk shiver of sinewed necks
\nin the stippled mist that clings like breath.<\/p>\n
\nbut I clasp them to my brain, those solid shapes,
\nflexing fetlocks, the switch switch <\/em>of tails.<\/p>\n
\nand I stretch out my hand, but they shift, whinnying,
\nstamp and scrape the ground, then whinny again.<\/p>\n
\nthey were in my core, \u00a0I sensed this enduring fear.
\nI know that I must drop my eyes,
\nsnort softly, bring my head to rest along theirs<\/p>\n
\n <\/p>\n