A poem for the six horses who died at Cheltenham this week.
STALLION
You of the mustang blood
and the steppe-longing;
you of the easy grace
and the rippling strength
and the mane flowing,
knowing the joy-dancing freedom
of the wild run.
You are led, blinkered,
by a small man
with a small heart
from one cage
to another
until
BANG
off running
in fear in fear
hot stripe of pain
hot stripe of pain
running
too fast
and fear
hot stripe of pain
and jump
crash
leg snap
hot stripe of pain.
They put you in another cage
until
BANG
shoot you dead.
Meanwhile the pissed rich white people
cheer on, leer on, make their money
or lose it, it doesn’t matter.
Small hearts.
In mine, for my comfort, you are somewhere else now,
mane flowing.
– Gideon Heugh
Gideon Heugh 