Rearing Bulls

A messy birth:
Strings of blood unwind,
and bag-like, a calf
drops to the mother-ground.

The cooing, brown cow
licked away the blood
and licked it up to stand
on its spindly, stick-legs.

The cow-calf grazes
as the meadow whispers:
"Remember me – the emerald lattice
of protein in your bones.

The mother-cow frowns,
leather hanging in wrinkles,
as she feeds the calf
with her own liquid flesh.

The Sun boasts of its heat
to the cow's bread-like warmth.
The farm and the animal
fighting for mother rights.

Who has reared this
crying child into a silent one?
The Bull's eye-veins bulge,
and his skin is devil red.

The farm and the cow both
look upon their distant mirror:
his hooves break spines and
his horns impale virtue,
Anger disregarding its origin.





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