In Velvet

Kathryn Jones

September 22, 2024

He is in velvet now, blood vessels,

skin, hairs forming a soft membrane

to strengthen antlers, six points now,

to attract mates, show dominance.

He comes here alone but I knew him

when he still had spots as did his twin sister,

staying close to the doe with her full teats,

feeding on corn we scattered, ever watchful.

Now his sister with her own twins chases him away;

he lets her, later returns to nibble what they left,

raises his head every few seconds, ever vigilant,

tilts his crown backlit by the afternoon sun,

then melts back into the oak forest,

hooves rustling leaves, going back into

the velvet evening.

Kathryn Jones is a poet, journalist, and essayist whose work has been published in The New York Times, Texas Monthly, Texas Highways, and the Texas Observer. Her poetry has appeared in numerous literary journals and anthologies, including TexasPoetryAssignment.com, Unknotting the Line: The Poetry in Prose (Dos Gatos Press, 2023), Lone Star Poetry (Kallisto Gaia Press, 2023), and in her chapbook, An Orchid’s Guide to Life, published by Finishing Line Press. She was inducted into the Texas Institute of Letters in 2016 and lives on a ranch near Glen Rose, Texas.