Thursday, November 4
THE DONKEY'S MOTHER'S SONG, A CAPELLA You went and got a baby from the earth. You stuffed it up inside yourself and didn't know what it was worth. It was made of dirt. It sang a bloat, a blather, a goat-like air. You didn't want a goat so you felt stuck. Sure, sure, the barbs of wire on the fence sang, it was a goat. You forgot your intuition and you called that thought. You practiced goat sounds when you gave up. You ate and ate until it came out. Your fear eaten by your need. You covered it and made it warm. It was not a goat. It was a life. You walked away so it could learn to walk. (Katie Peterson)