The old white horse with nicotine teeth
was tied up in the courtyard that summer.
All day he stood on concrete. Head hung low
in his halter, he rested one hindleg, then the other.

The limestone wall lent him a roof
for the morning, but as the day
peeled back, the sun bore down
on the hammock of his spine.

He stood so long, he’d stale the concrete.
A cascade of dirty yellow splashed his legs,
pooled into a stain. The stench hung around
long after it dried to a shadow.

We called him Stinky, and worse,
as we saddled him, legged up
a rich kid to trot countless circles.
Dragged him back hours later, crusted

with sweat. Drenched our own hot,
dusty bodies in the swimming pool.
Usually someone left a bucket
of water within reach.

This I tell no-one.
The coal imprint of a saddle,
his drooped lower lip.
The deep hollow above his eye.

These days I untie him, sponge his matted body,
his jaundiced fetlocks. Lead him into the cool
of the barn, to a freshly stuffed haynet,
a manger of sweet pasture mix.

Tina Sederholm is an Oxfordshire-based poet, performer and editor. Her two collections, Everything Wrong With You Is Beautiful, and This is Not Therapy, are published by Burning Eye. Creator of five solo spoken word shows, she has performed everywhere from The Royal Albert Hall and Edinburgh Fringe to her local aquarium. When she is not writing, she can be found riding racehorses or walking her Boxer dogs across the Cotswold hills.

Main photo by John Lavin.