Copyright is held by the author.
IT IS EARLY MORNING as the girl approaches the stable window. Posed on the tips of her toes she is just able to peer past the fat, black flies lying dormant on the ledge. The sun washes out the night and she sees the sleek stallion standing blacker in the shadows. Her eyes search the stable. She catches her breath when she sees her knight.
He stretches, feels the freedom of limbs before he dons the shining armour. He moves quietly about the stable, washes sleep from his eyes, prepares the stallion, until finally, he stands in the hay where a metal chest gleams. The suit presses on his shoulders, yet he gently brings to his lips the silk scarf of his maiden.
Leading the stallion into the courtyard, the knight quickly mounts. As the horse canters across the poppy field the young woman steps out of the shadows. She wishes that she had spoken with him.
The sun reaches the courtyard, warms the dusty flagstones and slips a fiery day inside the stable. A black fly agitates against the window pane as the woman turns towards the house, holding dear in her heart the vision of her knight riding the horizon.
Now there is an older woman who visits the stable when the moon reflects the sun. She hears the stallion snort in his sleep. Sagging, leathery shadows ripple over his tired back. The dry hay scratches the woman’s bare legs while she gazes at the tarnished, beaten metal chest.
Cold armour shell.
Fat, black, flies buzzing on dream death.