Lamb

Poem.

Driven by humanity’s grim wonder
They gather around the beaten boy

Bevy of upright hogs at a slop trough

Of someone else’s misery and hurt

His abuser stands proud; a drunken scamp

On an aluminum pedestal porch,

Gazing down at his boorish handy work

Spoor of young blood fresh on his rigid ungues

 

Not a single eye pans to the base brute

Far too busy slurping at the boy’s pain
He is not dead. Robbed of grave and worth,

The ragged lamb peels his shell from the grass

Stumbling like a casualty back into his wreck

Trailer-dungeon and whisky-wet warden

His only nightmarish means of being

 

Mob swept out by kinder winds, he tends his wounds

Alone.

Always alone.

Save for the rabid wolf on the couch.

Reviews

[Mason Vail]

Holy crap.
That HURTS. I feel like I just got punched in the gut.

My heart completely goes out to the defenseless lamb who has nowhere to go but back into the wolf's lair. They ought to sell tags for this sort of wolf every hunting season...

The image of "upright hogs at a slop trough Of someone else’s misery and hurt" is going to stick for a loooooong time. Can anyone say "Reality TV?"

[The Language of Birds]

Wow. Stunning. This could be virtually any kid I teach in my community. Great imagery rhythm and sound, and speaking in a new way. Refreshing read, though heavy and painful. Well done.