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ON MY HILL
I have a Hill and on the Hill there lives a goat
A goat who trims the grass and picks me flowers when
it rains
A little metal fence crowns my Hill in sanctuary
Solidarity, escape, and peace
My Hill would be nothing without me—I’m worth
everything
It’s mine in every way that could be
Far up north in Canada—but tucked away where snow
can’t reach
My Hill’s waiting beautiful for me
There’s only room for one, at the very, very top
And there’s just one door and just one set of keys
My house on my Hill is white as snow and purity
And the goat that lives with me is also white
I’m pale too—pale as I can be
But my eyes are red, from crying, I suppose
I wouldn’t cry on my Hill—if I ever found my Hill
Life wouldn’t be a game I had to lose
I’d eat instead of not, and sleep instead of not
I’d love instead of just being left alone
If my hill, and my goat, and my fence and tiny court
of Royalty
Were anywhere at all—in Canada or me—
I’d stay long enough for the lock to rust shut
I’d stay long enough to rust away, myself
I’d stay -til the world had forgotten—
My Hill, my goat, and me
- Nick Foos
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