Dark Horse [sonnet]
She killed the horse before the race began.
“It’s no use, for I know he’ll never win;
he lost before”, she said. “And if he can
so thwart me once, I can’t again begin”.
“But don’t you see?” the turf accountant said,
“he’s just a fallow, inexperienced lad.
He needs some time out on the track instead
of being put out into pasture, clad”.
On hearing all that bookie’s wise advice,
the woman climbed onto the horse’s back.
She stroked him, saying: “It’s worth the sacrifice”
and soon she ran him on the racing track.
The one who will not gamble on a horse
who’s lost before will not complete the course.
.
.
© Alan Morrison, 2017
The Naked Troubadour 