
the cripple lamb who cried they were falling & no one came to pick them up
& or wolves passed by. difficult to say. foxes can endure, thrive even,
with their lower jaws torn off. deer, too, after developmental duplication, renew their hoofprints in mud. the opportunism of certain species of creature could often be viewed as a genre of sadness. (lamentation.)
bah, the goathead of god might announce.
i.e., if an athlete breaks their leg, a mourning, a triumph, a welcoming
back, a feature film.
e.g., if a cr-ppl- breaks their leg, it is a Monday, the start of the weekend,
the branch unchosen for the firepit, a TED Talk.
ducks inquire curbsides as if death were not marketed for insurance cards. bleating against the folktale lays another folktale. it’s a joint exercise. instead of consequence, though, there’s a lack of validation. (of course.) the forest contains more than just trees that no one hears.
shepherds rescind their
fences, ground swell
lightning & snap, the wool is
supposed to symbolize innocence
(we know), shoulders of antler velvet
when our limbs are shrugged off, &
we wonder why listening doesn’t
exist, an open gash wants to be less
than predation, razor-toothed
staircases where the pulp won’t grow
back, it won’t, although the breaking
of bone seems unnatural under skin,
flesh is economic to flesh, the energy
it takes to ensure survival doesn’t
occur, & happiness is neither created
nor destroyed nor etc.
it’s not about the lamb, its vocal cords, et al. justified dying,
or its genetic offspring, predecessor to courtesy, because dead things are worth more than other dead things. none of us want to be gone before the ending.