—THE WORLD IS A LITTLE LESS BEAUTIFUL 

Remember to Exhale

No one will

look up

and so the baby

goats go on dying. 

It’s a bright slaughter

without bleating,

nothing blundered

or salvaged. 

And those broken blades

in your eyes? 

They glisten instead

of weep

while the lost stroller

encircles your ankles again. 

But what is relative and

what is timely, after all? 

What is the difference between

yolked and yoked? 

Somewhere mothers are

stretching their sails. 

Somewhere else embryos shiver

and refuse their bounty

or proffered breast. 

But let’s return

to the baby

goats

before they enter the barn. 

Let’s examine their hooves

and the sacred oil hidden in

the curls of their dull fluff.

Let’s remember to exhale.