An earlier version of this poem was published in Diode. It appears in my second book, Seize.

Through the fence you look out,
          their hooves breaking new earth.
Sleek fur the shade

          of bourbon. Kicking up clods
of green. I wheel you closer

          to shaken ground. Grandson,
at ten years old, you point at them. Once, I thought
          you said the word, horse.

Someday I’ll paint you
          the story. Topaz rain galloped

over roofs, barracks thundered. We were the ones
          corralled. My hands
on your shoulders, your hand taps

          my wrist. Look. They are
flying. Over crests of hills. Running into

          the sky. Go far enough, speak
what you can, there’s love
          in silence, all things, they come and go.