Death Is a ***ing Metaphor

Sheep stood silent, looking on
as I passed through the flock
like a ship through fog.

Eyes, open, but all unmoving,
witnessing me move.

What are you thinking?

I am thinking of hooves and no heartbeats.
I am wondering about wool
and what you see in me when I touch your fur
to test your stillness.

But the sheep still won't move.