The Horses

 

Genealogy lesson:

Ticking projector

Flickering light

On a plastic screen

 

Pulsing a prosthetic

Heartbeat inherited

From the faces

Extant in the frame

 

Suburban arcadia:

Limned by long-lost

Aunts and uncles

Cradling cup and saucer

 

Beside the roses

My gran laughs

Under auburn hair

And horn-rims

 

With a rubber band

My grandad flings

A glider skyward

In doomed flight

 

Grandparents

Watch my mother

And infant uncle

Running in circles

 

Throwing bread

To horses – a mare

And foal – at grass

In a nearby paddock

 

My mother

Turns, breeze

Lifting a hair

From her face

 

She asks me

For something:

Her small voice

Lost to the air