A new poem by Wellington poet John Boyd.

Wet Horses

Four hours in the car
Counting wet horses in unloved fields
Your feet up on the dash
As if braced for birthing
Travelling through a weak mist
Content in a calmness only found
At the epicenter of a marriage
In a fast car

Riding the brakes
Down Mt Messenger
Coasting in neutral
Is the simplest purity
Behind us the child sleeps
The doctors are optimistic
There’s nothing new to note
Except the white cell count
And wet horses
In unloved fields

The Friday Poem is edited by Chris Tse. Submissions are now being accepted until 31 January 2023. Please send up to three poems in a Word or PDF document to chris@christse.co.nz.