The Little Lamb

as dusk approached I sat
on a chair
outside the house
watching a lamb chew grass
in the meadow opposite
the little lamb looked
prettier than a baby
there was no one around
I winked at it, flirtatiously
and adjusted my lower jaw
surreptitiously, in imitation of
its angelic expression
an expression I
never managed to get right
possibly because
I myself am not a herbivore
later, when the sun set
and the twilight came on
I lost sight of it

by dinner-time the next day
this whole lamb
had been converted
into various bits and pieces
all piping hot
with that strong smell of sheep
it was placed on our dinner table
I wore that grass-eating expression
I had learned from it the previous day
as I sat chewing on its flesh.