I am a goat
ruminating on field grass
and dandelions. Teeth chomp,
lips and jaw sliding sideways.
You can’t see
the worry in my eyes.
Good for you my horns are hollow.
They arch backwards
as though confused which way I go.
I am a goat
and my stray beard hair
floats in your tea, my hooves
track dust and dung across the tapestry.
I’d give you milk and call it a day,
but even that has soured.
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