January 1st

on the horses’ birthday
we step brand new into the day,
hoping that for once, we have gone to bed
as one thing and risen another.
I go to bed tired, and I wake up
tired. I went to bed, a year ago,
and in the meantime I have grown
out of love. the days are
as long as they ever are. somewhere,
the horses are a year older. somewhere,
another horse slips wet and ready
into this life. how perfect, to be born
on the day that was already your birthday.
I go to bed, ready to love again,
legs unsteady as a newborn’s, expected
to hold up a body. how do we know
what to do the first time something
is asked of us. the first time we laugh.
the first time we taste salt. does
the body know how to love before
it’s born, thrust into a life it did not ask for.
nothing to unlearn yet. somewhere,
a mare licks her foal clean, nudges him
with her nose to try out his feet.
we try one step, then another.

Ash Davida Jane

Ash Davida Jane is a poet and editor from Te Whanganui-a-Tara. Her second book, How to Live With Mammals (Te Herenga Waka University Press, 2021) won second place in the 2021 Laurel Prize. She is a publisher at Tender Press and regularly reviews books on RNZ.