He Painted Horses misty blue backsides, necks nuzzled manes like silk on fire. Under a sky leaking light, a mare grazes on shadows as if chewing on something beyond our ken Or the ones so translucent, they look painted with rosewater, reflecting back the idea of each other against a night thick with brushstroke, opaque as the shrouded heart of the painter who was my father, who left me the gift of silence in a darkened room the unpainted and the unwritten waving from the bridge between us and now it is to this silence I return when the world is breaking and I need his voice like prayer. Babo Kamel Originally from Montreal, Babo Kamel’s work is published in reviews such as Whale Road Review, Greensboro Review, Painted Bride Quarterly, CV2, Poet Lore, and Best Canadian Poetry 2020. She is a Best of Net nominee, and a six-time Pushcart nominee, Her chapbook, After, is published with Finishing Line Press. Find her at: babokamel.com
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November 2024
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