Merging out from leafy tunnel-dark

to low-slung sun and monster shadowlands

in silhouette a stalwart bullock stands.

His brazen bulk on pale-grey road as stark

and black as jet on silver sands. He blocks

me, obstinate. I watch his male display;

a gauntlet thrown, a challenge to a fray,

he snorts his sweet hot silage fog, and mocks.

Desire to stroke his tousled forelock aches

in me. I reach. I touch. Meet mirror eyes

and see myself so small in giant skies.

Those waxy curls, a texture that awakes

a memory. My fingers. Your black hair.

So long ago, yet still, I linger there.



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2 thoughts on “Stalwart

  1. jaynestanton 05/01/2011 at 9:35 pm Reply

    I love tunnel-dark and low-slung sun, also your use of sounds and their echoes: bullock, bulk, black, blocks.
    I like the use of touch to trigger a memory, too.
    Keep posting Lindsay!

  2. lindsaywallerwilkinson 06/01/2011 at 8:31 am Reply

    Thanks Jayne, I will!

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