goats poem #1
juniper bursts from her stall when
the gate is opened leaps nimbly onto
the milking bench buries her nose in
oats while gillian washes her udder
then pulls a stream of milk from each
swollen tit into a cup to be sure it’s ok
fastens on the syringe of the homemade
milking machine (long plastic tube into
a mason jar, garage hand-pump at
40 bucks total instead of 150) gillian
milks each tit dry then each gets an
iodine dip now it’s pinon’s turn she
has waited patiently since her sister
throws a fit if she isn’t first their kids
cottonwood chinquapin blat lonesome
in the yard almost as big as their moms
and these nursing nannies are hefty
(kids rowan, thistle are farmed out)
gillian turns them loose for their hay
we carry full jars to the kitchen pour
fresh goat milk in our coffee later will
come herbed goat cheese whey soup
maybe a red hen will lay us an egg
©2015 Jacqueline Jackson
This article appears in Feb 5-11, 2015.
