Rusted Wire

She used to visit this horse in his paddock

and he would delight to see her

he would stamp his hooves and jump

his skin would dance and flex smooth over his muscles

he would hurry over to the fence, kicking dirt

and she would feed him sugar cubes and run her fingers

through the rich weave of his mane;

Over time, though, he changed

the limitless velvet of his hide now matted and thinned

his muscles still did their dance,

there, like always, under his skin

but he didn’t stamp his hooves anymore

he didn’t kick up dirt

he would slowly trot his way to the fence

so he could lick the sugar from her offering,

poked between the rusted wire

and she’d put her hand on his head, feel the age beneath

run her fingers over the rough grain of his snout

through the thinning glory of his gray mane

he’d look at her with those wet oil eyes

and they both knew they couldn’t keep doing this

forever