(available thru Three Rooms Press)

 by Karen Hildebrand

I have many reports
on the miseries of the milkman,

daughter of dairy folk that I am. 
But the cows! The cows are lovely!

Holstein, Guernsey, 
Belarus Red. Uncle Vern

used to hook them up 
to machines that pulsed

the barn like a disco. Milk!
It's my happy place! Butter

churned from the froth!
Takes well to chocolate

and mama’s boys.
It’s the sweet bond of suckle

we wish we could return to.
In a bowl the Cheerios

always run out first.
Snow White, a shapely vixen,

bottled with a pleated cap
and wholesome as Nancy Drew.

“Farming is hard,” said Uncle Vern 
before he died. “Damn you,

Vern,” said his wife, after.
When he was sad, he ate

Wonder Bread soaked in milk 
from a glass with a spoon.

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