Black Horses

a poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

A dark blue hearse,
dust free and shiny stalks the byways,
when other cars pass its mournful progress,
a flash! a picture is taken for future reference.
Its driver has been professionally serious for so long
that he can’t smile even when he laughs,
then it’s like seeing tombstones in moonlight.
Found him parked off the road,
amongst silver birch trees,
eating his lunch and asked
‘Are you a serious illness chaser’
He nodded a yes and said
‘Pretty legs you have got madam’
He was right, I wore mini skirt and looked gloriously sexy.
All those years and I didn’t know
that I was a man with the tender heart of a lesbian woman.
Tombstones glinted as he put the hearse in gear
stalking the byways.