by Laura James
One sheep. Two sheep. Three sheep.
I try to imagine each leaping over a fence in a rhythmic, repetitive convention.
Four sheep. Five sheep.
This is not simple. This fence is invisible, so the sheep that are unaware do not jump and are instantly fried upon crossing. The sixth sheep is dinner.
Seven sheep. Eight sheep.
Someone is forcing them over the fence. I am familiar with this man. With his staff he pokes and prods – subjecting them to the leap. The Shepherd keeps the ninth sheep’s neck hooked in the bend of his staff. He does not want her to leave the property just yet. He likes her. He tells her she is a good sheep – a beautiful sheep. He strips her of her wool in violent fistfuls until she falls to the ground that is now coated in her own DNA. He does not like her anymore. He tells her she is a good-for-nothing sheep while pushing her onto the invisible border – left to roast on the fence line.
Ten sheep. Eleven Sheep. Twelve Sheep. Thirteen Sheep.
This is not working. Lethargic sheep do little to tire my mind. The thirteenth sheep tries to come back. Her wool has turned black during her time off the property and now she wants to revisit the Shepherd. I lose sight of the black sheep in the darkness behind my eyelids. But he has her. I know that he has her because I can hear him cooing again. It comes from the back of his throat and rattles through the abyss. I want him to let go of her so badly. But how do you save a lost sheep?
I open my eyes. The room is dark but far brighter than with my eyes shut. So I can tell that there are no sheep in my room. It is just me. I roll onto my stomach knowing that this is the position in which I am most vulnerable. The man took all of me from behind. My vision wiped out when my head was pushed deep into the pillow. I had four senses left, and heightened. The taste of my pillowcase – bloodied wool. The smell of each fiber –foul with every attempted inhale. The touch of the staff’s pokes and prods. The cooing of the Shepherd. I am most vulnerable in this position, so, Sleep, go ahead and take all of me too.
Fourteen sheep. Fifteen sheep. Sixteen sheep. Seventeen sheep…
