TOY GOAT YOU ARE WELCOME
Toy goat, you are welcome here. Your nimble ankles.
Your short lifted tail making a tail-angel in the living room air space.
The swathing of shapes on restless elements. Your people welcome you.
I like to think of our shared habit of desperation as middle earth.
An arc-like shape drifting over a parachute held by a ring of children.
An armature of feathers, already their own arc, that need not
be transformed to give them wing. And as the evening goes on,
I confess I do yearn for the time-lapsed sound of a whipping propeller
to fill my mouth, to fill my mouth with you.
Elizabeth Zuba translates and writes from Brooklyn. She is currently translating the first four books of poetry of Belgian artist Marcel Broodthaers for his estate. Some of her poetry has appeared in Denver Quarterly, Versal, Forklift Ohio, Handsome, American Letters & Commentary and Aufgabe.