Mustang
By John Pring
It was a Tuesday. The rain
orphaned and undressing
against the window. Hymns
heaved from the river’s mouth.
You called four times. Apologised
through the voicemail. Hello?
I took his watch. I placed
a mustang into his palm.
I held grief sharp
enough to damage
the economy.
I’m still interested
in living. Even now.
My son has green eyes.
My son clutches his horse
and doesn’t exist.
orphaned and undressing
against the window. Hymns
heaved from the river’s mouth.
You called four times. Apologised
through the voicemail. Hello?
I took his watch. I placed
a mustang into his palm.
I held grief sharp
enough to damage
the economy.
I’m still interested
in living. Even now.
My son has green eyes.
My son clutches his horse
and doesn’t exist.
John Pring is a poet and author based in the United Kingdom. He has a BA from the University of Sussex, a BA from the University of Wales, Aberystwyth, and an MA in creative writing from the University of Sussex. He is a current MFA student at Manchester Metropolitan University. He has poems published or upcoming in The Comstock Review, Epiphany, Poetics, B O D Y, Gramercy Review, The Passionfruit Review, Meniscus, Humana Obscura, Santa Clara Review, The King's English Society, and others.