If I were some kind of lamb,
Soft, easy to attack,
Fragile in the field,

I would listen for the shepherd
who loves the colour
and texture of my wool

and the way I raise my head
when the sun shines:
He would overlook

the awkward way I run
and hit my knees
against protruding fences

in the night
and he would pick me up
for no good reason.