Nameless horse

And here we are, my odious horse and I.

The cold is intense.

But it doesn't stop us from running across the prairie or through the sky.

In the distance, we have poplars or birches; the train line divides the red earth like a gentle ocean.

We have green, iridescent grass that we can use or recreate in our shared memory.

A horse, which I cannot paint, I imagine white, letting my lips rest against it as a symbol of brotherhood, the subtle trust of rider and friend.

I can paint you wings. I can outline a mane of steel. But in memory you endure, white, trotting through the grass.

You may no longer be here, but each stroke is a thrust against oblivion.

Horse. You remain untamed, through the days. In my memory.

Photo taken from the contest at ccc.