They come into the world
red-streaked and steaming.
Blind and not worth much,
roughed-up between worn hands
and mother’s tongue.
Coyotes maraud at dusk,
gums raw with want. Gunfire
invites them, signaling
new life worth killing for.
Tonight, the lambs will sleep
on kitchen linoleum and drink
stove-warmed colostrum. Dreaming
beneath the sound of starving pups
on the horizon. No one is dying
tonight.
Katie Strubel
Katie Strubel (she/her) is a twenty-four year old queer writer from Idaho, USA. Her words have appeared in The Southern Quill, FEED, Warning Lines, Agapanthus Collective, and others. She is a recent creative writing grad, a middle school librarian, and a scorpio. You can find her on Twitter @lemonsorbay.