Roan

Kevin Dyer

Through and through, thought that–roan horses, other fenced-in animals that never go grey, age in any way you can readily see.

Not that I ever forgot– but whatever you loved was just one way from here– in response to an intended wound, the softest, or the hardest hit, move in a way that’s painful to recognize.

An image in steady decline– stippled blood across the forehead, almost a straight line.