Lamb

please don’t grasp onto
my paper thin
pin-holed walls,
like i myself can puppeteer
the architect to
freely erect them once
you’ve overspent your
welcome

my roof is paper thin
& pin-holed, too,
space-way destinations
counted like constellated lambs,
glowing white against a midnight,
rolling hill
& sometimes falling
back to my paper thin
& pin-holed self,
escaping the big bad wolf,
for only  a blink

please don’t pin-hole
my already paper thin walls with
your perpetually grasping
caterpillar ways
for i am not a leaf on a branch
i am a glowing white lamb
& i belong to the rolling,
midnight hill