by Joan Dobbie
My Childhood Lamb
was no cliche:
She chased cars, butted babies,
trampled flower gardens
into pulp
A gift from some old farmer
that my father cured
she turned out less a blessing
than a curse, I mean
for Dad
She put his fragile nerves
on such an edge
he had
another heart attack
& almost died
Beware of gifts
my mother used
to always say
You never know
what lies
beneath the wrap
jd
4/5/07