Home Is Where The Horse Is


An ongoing friendship with the wild horses of Rooisand

You were missing an eye. It took me hours to notice. In my glee. Your name. I never learnt. Waperd. My unholy love for you. The hoof that never rots. A lack of liability. Warnings against theft. You mate in the current of an electric fence. Without tense. Once you were my homecoming. I the tropic of your winter coat. By an empty road. The silhouette of Johnny K. Trees now felled. 29. Neither by hide. Nor estuary. A shore endlessly finite. Waves that break before fully formed.

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