John Grey - Issue 36
- Charlie Cawte

- May 2
- 1 min read

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Midnight Mind, Novus and Calliope. Latest books, “Bittersweet”, “Subject Matters” and “Between Two Fires” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Levitate, White Wall Review and Willow Review.
THE DAY OF A HORSEWOMAN
This is a woman
who mucks stalls half the day,
who comes to
the house at sunset
smelling of horseshit.
But she’s also a woman
who saddles those steeds,
so her odor is comfortably
drenched in warm leather.
Not forgetting the way
she rides,
around the track,
or over the fields.
So her perfume incorporates
the smell of sweaty roan flanks.
But with the tang of grace,
of speed.
And this is a woman
who rubs horses down,
runs fingers through mains,
rubs under chin,
says her farewells
with soft words
and sugar-cubes,
This is a woman
whose night begins
with her taking a shower.
After that,
there’s one more
creature to attend to.
It’s her man
in his stall.
A CEMETERY VISIT
I know that real flowers
will be withered before the weekend
and that the plastic variety
could reign colorful for years.
And yet, when I kneel
before the urn, these are
true roses in my hand, freshly picked,
bright red and white and yellow.
I honor brief lives with brief life,
not by brandishing something
indestructible but devoid of
anything organic.
I’ll be back in a week or two
to replenish these radiant blooms.
Those who leave plastic
forgo their need to be here.



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