or, Blah, Blah, Black Sheep
All hollow’s eve,
(she done up as that other mother);
The dark one who begat all the black sheep,
cast them out of the lea on their own,
Cut them from the heart-chord so that they
might the sacrifice lam.
The angel’s dark shadow swept across the lintel,
tasted the offering, and moved on.
While off and away the little fugitives ran
under a blood-red moon
That bathed them in freedom’s afterbirth.
Later, after they could run no more,
Would collapse in a cold damp place
and lick it off themselves.
April 6, 2012
poetastrophy 