The horses mellow their necks together into a heart.

Their noses touch catching the other's breath

as if passing the scent of grass were a way of

parting. They are of equal standing; mighty

and tender as fine rain they have known in

dignity in mauve dawns. They are saying

goodbye in a knowing that is only theirs.

They stand with the sky as witness.

This is peace. Everything else

isn't there.

                     I am shown this photograph.

I imagine how the horse on the right was

later led away and the man who had

loaded the cartridge into the rifle had, again,

swallowed hard before walking out to the

remaining horse, and taking aim, tried to

avoid falling into its brown warless eyes.

Joanne Cornwell has a degree in Writing from Dartington College of Arts, UK. Her words have been engraved on slate in her textual installation. She is widely published and in 2021 had two poems shortlisted for The Bridport Prize. She is a musician who always prefers to improvise on the piano and cello.