Divination
With one massive arm
she hugged the huge
brown ram around its chest
so its legs hung,
hooves grazing ground.
In the other hand, ungloved,
shears buzzed.
I was blinded
by omens, the literal
and the sacred.
Which was which?
Sheep had meant paschal.
A sacrifice
to tip, by blood,
the scales of justice.
But this pelt was peeled
swiftly, bloodlessly
in a single piece:
flank to feet,
up back, to face.
I’d expected trepidation
by shearer of squirming,
or fear, the sheared.
Some named division
to settle doubt:
between taker and taken.
* * * * *
Linked
I’m not glad I never knew about pangolins
or that elephants drenched in muck get stuck.
Not glad their trunks were truncated
by hungry hyenas.
I am trying to learn to stop faking disinterest.
It turns out I’m caught,
trapped in a nest of solipsism,
cut off from flight.
I’m glad it wasn’t not caring
but tangle I’m trying
to unravel. Since surely
a salamander scurrying to wet
is worthy, more worthy
than staying aloof.
I’m glad, now I’m glad to be
hungry for fossils, for linkage,
for these led to us
for this led to me, for widening
the ways a body heats.