& three of them took turns attacking
the others, who seemed impossibly
oblivious. It was raining & somewhere
inside a song was playing.
It was a song about a starving goat
& the boy who raised her,
who petted her every day &
fed her small rocks &
in the chorus the boy told the goat
he would never love anything
more than he loved her,
his perfect little goat.
& this refrain repeated,
beautifully sung over trembling
strings as the birds finished off
the last of their group,
devouring it into their beaks
& I banged on the glass
& tried to open the window
which was painted shut
long before I was born.