Judith Skillman

1954 / Syracuse, New York

Lamb's Ear

One gray leaf snipped finger and thumb
from the larger body
of felt. Animal for an afternoon.
No particulars save for a wan sun
required to winter over.

Each stem softened by resemblance,
meant to follow the girl who stands
against a stone wall, countryside,
with her sister. Bouguereaux's peasants,
their eyes large with childhood.

Lamb's ear: small tangential clump
beholden to the sun.
In fur lies the answer to the past.
We live in a garden of questions.
How many, how much, why or why not-

The queries indelicate, held
by a pink tongue
as the false sheep sleeps
in its coat of leaves. To propagate
is a mother's best wish.
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