That August, he worried if one lamb
Could carry the family well past the last few snows.
Who, though, speaks crow at that age.
A year later, and he would’ve known to sleep
In the barn the night before leading her to slaughter.
He would’ve fed her dried apricot slices,
Her favorite, by hand. He would’ve read
To her from the book on clouds he had found,
The wind picking up, dawn coming fast.
The thaw, closer than those with no time for art.
Copyright © 2024 by Tommy Archuleta. Published in Invisible Strings: 113 Poets Respond to the Songs of Taylor Swift (Random House, 2024), edited by Kristie F. Dougherty. Published with permission of the poet.