Here is another who lost
his face

but he’s found his sheep.
It must

have wandered, who knows
where or why.

The sheep, too, lacks a face.
You can see

the matted wool on its back and haunch,
the folds

of the shepherd’s robe, the knotted
rope at his waist—

just not the faces, rubbed away
or broken off.

The sheep rests lightly on the shepherd’s
stone shoulders,

back straight, hand relaxed
on the animal’s leg.

His entire body breathes relief
if stone can breathe.