The Pale Horse
At twilight she is still sitting with the book in her hand,
staring through the window, looking for snow.
Have you seen my horse? she says, eyes wild
with loss. I smile, brush her hair. She purrs.
She cups my face. I know you, she whispers,
have you stolen my horse? I cover her hands with mine
and we stare a while, nose to nose. I know you.
Her lips twitch, try to find the forgotten shape
of my name. I tell her, but she shrugs and turns
to the window, expecting snow.
Lesley Ingram was born in Doncaster and lives in Ledbury. She is studying a PhD in Yorkshire Dialect poetry, and her first collection is to be published by Cinnamon Press in 2015.