The Gelding: A Poem about the End

The Gelding

The Race Track (Death on a Pale Horse), Ryder

The palomino wheezed and soughed

away from his companion.

Strangles had gripped the ranch.

This had been his life.

The barren, windswept landscape,

the oats nearby, at length—

not hungry. How was Charlie?

He had been his life.

The palomino had a purpose,

a watchcry, was loved, so where

were the others, he thought.

He had used to belong.

Every horse in its own stable,

the disparate and neutered.

How he longed to be a part.

This was not his life.

The dying light and the dying gelding

nursed each other in the throes of

The all-around darkness. The abyss,

The sun fell. A view of the world was lost.