Grand National

As if it were not enough
to make a stallion tame,
tie ribbons, fanciful knots
in tail and mane


Metal and leather tugging,
instinct-draining tugging.


As if it were not enough
to run on the flat, a man on your back
in a whipping frenzy.
Big name sponsor whipping up the punters' money.


Year upon year falling
horse upon horse falling.


Out of focus, on the News, a man dispatches
a brown clump of grounded hooves.
A horse loose, wins the race
unburdened, ignored


as the favourite, jockey still intact,
steals the glory.


Sometime in my lifetime
when the human race grows up,
that race or, at least, those fences
will break life for the last time.