lambskin

there's a metaphor in here somewhere

the world cups me slowly and i

am a rough thing waiting to be tamed: the

shepherd boy is young still, gentle

still, he does not know the teeth under

the dirt that gnaw at his feet he

thinks they must be seashells, stupid

boy we are too far from water and

anything that may scrape the 

softness off our skin: we are rugged

people, wolf people, made of

mothwing and one eyed snakes and 

swordfish, which is not so much a sword

as it is a promise: we know not

how to be good, only hungry,

so we put on our furs so that we 

can be close to the lamb 

hearted things we long to be.