View Archives by:


Horse Latitudes

Josh Hanson

North into the bottoms and then East,
Up into hills, scrub trees and houses
Set back from the road, beyond fences
The horses stand beautifully still, made
It would seem, expectant, even this one
Sagging beneath its heavy blanket,
All I've ever known of them: broken
And the wonderful question —see them
Rising in answer— of how many hands.

Josh Hanson

Read Bio

Author Discusses Poems