The goat didn’t understand
the significance of the bell around
his neck,
smelled
the sunlight hitting
the dewy grass
as he opened his eyes each morning,
looked
at his handlers, the humans,
and thought of them
as his protectors,
took
a kinetic joy
in bounding through open fields
among sage and purple wildflowers,
kicking
up dirt,
and taking naps
in the shade of thick cypress trees
on hot, dry afternoons.
One day,
a rope was tied
around his neck,
and he was led
to a place he had never
been before, and
into a situation
he had never
considered
before.
The goat was tied
to a tree
in a sunken, gray,
muddy place.
He was surrounded by
a throng of faces.
He recognized
some of them—
humans he had known
and smelled,
sometimes kicked,
sometimes licked.
Some of the faces
smoked cigarettes
and sat in silence.
Others talked excitedly.
Others drank
and sang.
All of them were waiting
for something,
but the goat did not
understand what.
And then he
felt a hand
grab onto one of his
horns. Its grip was firmer
than the goat remembered
the grip of a human hand could be.
And then he felt an arm
around his back,
it was almost a hug,
but more resolute in its
intentionality—
wholly,
horrifyingly,
out of character
from what the goat had
understood about
his handlers.
The goat now
realized that
something was wrong.
He did not
want to be in this position
any longer. He
began struggling,
kicking more
and more violently,
but still he felt more arms
and hands
restraining him—
pinning him down
in spite of
his protestations.
The goat began to
cry out
for help, for God,
for one of his humans—
a final plea
to the universe
to come and rectify
the situation.
And then the goat felt
a cold, hard edge
pressed against his throat.
Wild-eyed,
he looked up,
and there he saw
his human,
the one who had
fed him
and cared for him
for as long as
he could remember.
The man ******
his arm
and yanked the goat’s head
back,
and the goat felt a shocking,
slicing pain.
He could sense that warm fluid was
draining
down his neck, could
tell something
irreparable had happened
to his body. His
eyes darted around,
looking at all of
the unflinching, cold faces
surrounding him.
Up until
this moment,
the goat hadn’t
considered
the possibility
that the ones whom he
loved
so dearly
and who loved
him
so dearly
could
betray him
like
this.
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 12:02 AM UTC
The goat didn’t understand
the significance of the bell around
his neck,
smelled
the sunlight hitting
the dewy grass
as he opened his eyes each morning,
looked
at his handlers, the humans,
and thought of them
as his protectors,
took
a kinetic joy
in bounding through open fields
among sage and purple wildflowers,
kicking
up dirt,
and taking naps
in the shade of thick cypress trees
on hot, dry afternoons.
One day,
a rope was tied
around his neck,
and he was led
to a place he had never
been before, and
into a situation
he had never
considered
before.
The goat was tied
to a tree
in a sunken, gray,
muddy place.
He was surrounded by
a throng of faces.
He recognized
some of them—
humans he had known
and smelled,
sometimes kicked,
sometimes licked.
Some of the faces
smoked cigarettes
and sat in silence.
Others talked excitedly.
Others drank
and sang.
All of them were waiting
for something,
but the goat did not
understand what.
And then he
felt a hand
grab onto one of his
horns. Its grip was firmer
than the goat remembered
the grip of a human hand could be.
And then he felt an arm
around his back,
it was almost a hug,
but more resolute in its
intentionality—
wholly,
horrifyingly,
out of character
from what the goat had
understood about
his handlers.
The goat now
realized that
something was wrong.
He did not
want to be in this position
any longer. He
began struggling,
kicking more
and more violently,
but still he felt more arms
and hands
restraining him—
pinning him down
in spite of
his protestations.
The goat began to
cry out
for help, for God,
for one of his humans—
a final plea
to the universe
to come and rectify
the situation.
And then the goat felt
a cold, hard edge
pressed against his throat.
Wild-eyed,
he looked up,
and there he saw
his human,
the one who had
fed him
and cared for him
for as long as
he could remember.
The man ******
his arm
and yanked the goat’s head
back,
and the goat felt a shocking,
slicing pain.
He could sense that warm fluid was
draining
down his neck, could
tell something
irreparable had happened
to his body. His
eyes darted around,
looking at all of
the unflinching, cold faces
surrounding him.
Up until
this moment,
the goat hadn’t
considered
the possibility
that the ones whom he
loved
so dearly
and who loved
him
so dearly
could
betray him
like
this.
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