poem: molly

australian shepherd, destroyer of worlds & (stuffed) lambs

little sentinel, keeping watch over the sun-bent deck
with her ears pressed back. the whole of the world is
behind her — myself, typing. my sisters painting and my
mother, hanging the blue-whorled swedish plates.
all of us, her little women. she was born
in larger skies — hung over the
west, fields bordering others and others and others — americana gods
laying prone in mile-marked swolls of grass. she was born
for raw pursuit and
chase, the sheep made captive, the dawn
chemical and small — she runs with it, the farmer
hung ornate on the long curves
of the earth. she keeps watch over the deck, the
piece-meal sky, the people inside —
she sleeps.

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