Thursday, April 11, 2013

11. Antcows

In the distance ant-cows gather
big bellied with tenderous aching,
in chorus of expectancy;
the fondling care
of husbandry
like a teasmaid
at dawn.
From here we cannot
see their brown-eyed souls
or smell their bosomy warmth,
they are bottled
and homogenised
by space.

1 comment:

Doug Blair said...

Keith so often the visual transports in your poems. You've done it again.