Draw Me a Sheep

You bear a cross on your stomach

and I make no sense.

Wild again,

beguiled again,

A simpering, whimpering child I am.

Your voice is soft

as you call everyone an idiot.

You don’t have many friends,

and you’re OK with it.

This is a desert.

I hold my hand out to mayflies,

I snub my nose at men in Lamborghinis.

My priorities, they say,

are upside down.

No, I don’t want to buy a planet,

I just want to move freely around it,

I want to say hello to you from time to time.

I won’t ask you for a blanket.

I think I can take the cold now –

A blessing after all this heat,

it drives the cockroaches away.

And snakes? – Oh, they’re my friends.

The most perfect sheep

is the one in the box.

With holes to breathe,

it’s safe forever,

forever new.

A constant promise.

“What are you giggling about?” you say.

I’m just celebrating.

The rose lives.

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