Ninety-Nine Escaping North Dakota

When day fails, search by flashlight:

don't let the lambs get into the field & wrong the crop

The sheep in eclipse, the wool in shadow

Goodbye to them as they complain

You pinch the edges of a tablet—your sleeping pill

feels like chastisement

(because you cannot swallow)

Night, where one becomes one hundred

& rain fills the craters

& the herd fords the flood

Goodbye to them as they complain

The flock in cataract, the indistinct fighting for sun-


(Behold the Lambs!)

With your crook, you immerse the wayward

& the Badlands drink them in