April 27, 2011 § Leave a comment


Hold the lamb by its
Hind legs, bleeting loud—
We hold the carotid between
The thumb and forefinger,
As stiff as one
Stringed instrument,
As the harp bleeds
Over the drum,
The hooves catch in the mud
Push the ground,
Pulsing, from one
Carotid to the next.
From one head,
Stricken dumb by
Its animal blood,
To another head, stricken
Dumb by her
Unmarked bloodline.


She looked dangerous
In sherling, the underside
Of her coat flashing
The trophy of a well choreographed
Killing, a soft underside,
The fine hairs of the belly
And Her belly round, the longitude
Of love, the axis of fine hairs
that define the sacred dome,
The shape of the babe,
This animal child kept
Warm by the skin
Of another child.


Her friends gave her
Grief for being so
Perverted, for finding
Her bloodline. The child
looked everything like


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