They like moo-vies.
Mostly fairy tales & documentaries
of faraway lands. Herzog
lulls them to sleep as do their
electric blankets the farmer bought them
when they unionized. For two weeks
they refused, only allowing their calves
to suckle. After blocking the barn gate with
the help of two horses and the strongest
duck, they watched a film on Siberia. Moo-ved
by the calm of the snow. How harsh the
blood melts against it. And all of them
mothers. All of them knowing what
sacrifice means. They’d like some mirrors to
watch themselves, to look into their own
eyes and ask, “Is this your life?”