Presidential Sheep

I detest you more than—more

than the number six hates seven.

I have become a gawky doll

sitting in a dusty collection.

I’ve covered you from the

world, but the snakes of this

town have search you out.

I stand with one leg on the

northern hemisphere and the

other on the southern. The equator

separates us at the mouth. You

had icy white wings while I

stood under an apple tree in

4 inch rain showers. Beloved, I

once called you, but that is all

nonsense now. I am still that

doll in that collection that has

lost all sympathy for the wicked.

I’m an animated crane machine

exhausted by your crushing legs.