Kneeling in a pew, the straw-strewn

Sheep fell outside herself
pink anemone protrusion pink
tongue splat wide between molars
a yell like a horn or stripe
of gummy candy. O matted warm
body, curled around young
clumps of boneless mass

As we kneel, our elbows red
in your colostrum/shit-caked
hole. O sheep!
Bodies pressed to the wood
to the wool—now
you must run and hope
your own vulva flips, a fruit
pitted, a gut strung, a child
happy, twirling in the waves.

Photo by Antonello Falcone on Unsplash