In a Cow’s Eye

Clouds stall overhead.
I stand in the field flanked by pasture and barn.
Shorn cornstalks winnow back and forth, back and forth
and gangs of crows gather to eat.
On a scab of hill, wild turkeys perch
and down below roosters scream at hens.
On the porch of the crooked clapboard house
the Spencer brothers sit and wait
like men on the deck of a ship.
The wooden railing runs to its imperfect corners,
its knotty posts, split and twisted,
like telephone poles on the dirt road.
A lonely crowd poses ankle deep in the grass,
tagged and tattooed.
In a cow’s eye I see the sun ignite.
By degrees
the sky goes rainbow wild.




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