Nat’l Poetry Month 26/30

I just wandered into the closet of myself and found

a happy tent folded in the arms of a goat sitting

on a mountain near the sea where birds

in their claws held hearts of everyone

I’ve loved and I’m running trying to catch

their love with my teeth. The goat bleats


The happy tent free now the goat running

into me one big bump in the chest his horns

all over me a sharp field of acceptance grace


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