Sep 17

glitter, cows, echos, and us

the world is a mirage, you know
glittering green, glitter
landing softly at our feet
an expansion of light, the blooming of a
green hibiscus
the opening, the peeling back of sparkly petals
falling away, having lived their lives
hopefully to the fullest
then there is the constant mooing of the cows
the background for the night
alone in bed but not alone in the room
I can still hear them, calling out to me
to me and you and the cows are mooing
so loudly I can't hear myself speak
cows are quiet most of the time
they swish their tails and eat the hay thats set out for them
but at night, the cows come alive
my brain set to overdrive
I can't get the words on paper fast enough
a deep-set stutter of the brain
but the cows,
their voices ring clear in the air
deep sounds
people hear them and stop to listen
moos reming them of home
or death
or sometimes life
then they cry or laugh
but no matter what, they feel
the vibrations of the moo
the sorrow
the gentle kindess in a cows throat

i wish my poems were as loud as the cows
i wish they could resonate through the barn and across the field and all the way to the very top of the mountains
an echo people would hear and stop to listen to
to cry to, or laugh to
I want to make people feel
so I read my most cow-like poems
I scream them
I try to force the echo but the people approaching have lights
lights trapped in their hands
in their eyes

theres light in your eyes
eyes blinded by the light
and I can't see the glitter when it falls to the grass, invisible
each grain a snowflake, spiraling downward
they scream into the night
voices pulsating, shivering, not needing to force the echo
intertwined with the moos
with the cows
with my own words

there is a moment of crystalline chaos
and I can breathe for the first time in a long while