Elizabeth Lenson
Goat Poem

Felt faced under scrutiny, the stakes are high.

The black ears of goats roll in their sockets
To the sound of our tongues, mustard stained
You complain of allergies
Born of such analogous eye,
This Nubian fur, tête-à-tête

Well, I speak the tongue of goats
The one you are ashamed of
The specular reserve

Yes, the goats have understood their findings
Through each the others' oiled eyes, for centuries
Around the time we discovered fire, the goats had begun
Experimentation—in the vein of obscurity,
In the tradition of stone.