77/L14 – Covenant


Christ the man stands
in an urban field,
a weed-filled lot, rampant
with equally urban goats.
A whole herd. He’s paid
several dollars to be here.
The wind is warm and
the sky holds no threat
or malice. The sounds of cud
and bleating comfort.
Each bright ear tag
is a reminder, a message
to the one who bears it:
you are safe here, it says,
we will not eat you, nor
butcher you cross-ways
and sprinkle your blood
to prove our intent
to another. It has been done.
It is not done now.
The people around him
who have also paid, who might
have paid more, mingle leisurely.
They know nothing of what
the goats know. They know
only warm wind
and the soft sound of bleating.
He smiles to think of it.

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