the trophy sheep

white-dabbed places to romp in: a well-positioned sheep.
muscles as solid as nylon, in the dark the ribs,
the joint of mutton's expansion ends in spindly sticks.
the hooves are used for buttons, dildoes, artificial limbs.
tallow rumbles across it, the exterior crinkly with underhair.
here is the sheep, producing surplus value by the minute.
the sheep of the apocalypse, out to become the ubersheep.
the sheep of sharply tuned receivers. the sheep
that points up to the sky, the sheep as an oilwell,
visionary sheep of the future, the sheep of things to come,
made into money, travelling at suicidal speeds.
white cushions worth millions, maximal, numbered,
mouths and marrows in circulation, the trophy sheep.
keep counting: two point two, two
point three, point four million sheep in circulation.
and in the end, exhausted, the sheep of reason blinks.

                                                            (with thanks to ms. scho)

Monika Rinck
translated by Alistair Noon