The Inevitable Demise of Lamb

“He gives those so possessed power to foretell the future”
—Euripides, ‘The Bacchae’

It is a terrible burden
To watch the inevitable demise of Lamb
As I wander through fields
Between hypnic jerks
Knowing I can’t cut Lamb loose, but that
I do enjoy being asleep

Or feigning unconsciousness
While Lamb bleats. I say to Lamb, “Lamb—
I now only sleep,” and leave Lamb
Circling my field; but God—not me—
Extends the boundary, so Lamb
Leaps at fences

That aren’t there: I do not decide
Our burdens. I am not so terrible—less so
Than God. So waking
Became pointless: I knew
What would happen; this making me
God-like, perhaps powerful. But

Paralysed, having learned
To welcome sleep and
Jerks. And cowardice. And
Fences. And Lamb still
Loose—and trapped—in my field
Bleating as I lie quietly.