My poem, “Clover,” is now published by Wingless Dreamer Publisher in the their Unveil the Memories anthology! I have since worked on the poem and am presenting it here in its most current form:
Clover
Darting ball of mocha fur,
speckled Nubian ears,
inquisitive face,
horns barely buds,
she’d jump on my back,
straddle her mother,
flop onto my beach chair,
press her forehead
against the mesh seat
to see what was up
on the other side,
even then a feisty goat.
When her horns grew
to the length of my thumbs,
she retreated from the butts
of raucous bucks,
glanced at me glumly.
Stick up for yourself, I said.
The herd is a rough place.
Her youthful eyes locked with mine,
then she turned and fought back,
head-butted everything in sight,
newest bully of the field.
That one,
the farm manager said,
shaking his head.
I found another farm,
then another,
and another.
Finally, a friend
with her own herd
an hour away
agreed to take her in.
Two bone curves
now crowned her head,
fully formed,
formidable.
She tried again
to bully her way,
rammed her head
against a fencepost,
broke both horns,
lost her edge,
a full-grown nanny banished
to the lowest rung
of the ladder,
her rank below
even that of the newborn
whose own head
was just busting buds.
No choice but to accept her place
in this newest herd.
My beautiful doe,
my Clover.
But, really,
it’s her own fault.
Or is it mine?
Mindful mother that I was,
demanding she
stick up for herself.
