The Calf Pen 5/16/85

Yesterday I went to see the cows.
That is what I say, but I go to the calf pen.

Very young they are, just a few days
They come to me eagerly and wrap their rough tongues around my fingers,
Sucking them
Spitting them out
Retreating
Looking at me with wonder and reproach.

Last time,
Julie and Barb were struggling with a bull calf
Tugging him with rope around his hindquarters
His feet were planted and he was balking
Bawling

Where’s he going? I asked
They sell them for veal, Julie said, wrinkling into a sad smile.

Plant your feet, bull calf,
Bawl.

Later she came over to me and said, I hate that.

Today, I squat by the calf pen in the dusty light, and
The calves gaze at me with wonder and reproach, and
I whisper to them.