You don’t know this horse.
What you love most doesn’t
Have a name and runs wild.
Ridden with guilt, you slept
in a field, naked and hungry,
committed to memory the cold
how it sunk its teeth into your
body one mouthful at a time.
That night all the small animals
you’d buried came alive. You
told yourself, don’t be afraid.
I am no longer that man. Laid
your head on the dirt and watched
the grass trill, heard the beating
In your chest for the first time:
the beasts starting to stampede.
the repetition of the same letter or sound at the beginning of words appearing in succession
a line break interrupting the middle of a phrase which continues on to the next line
the attribution of human qualities to a non-human thing