Coming through the dry
blond stems of wild oats,
late spring rains
in their eyes, two black
virgins weave their way
to water as they discover
the near reaches of womanhood
that simmer within—come
to a boil from time to time.
And they are beautiful,
and innocent—just unable
to see what’s ahead.
If they were able to see what’s ahead, would they not head back to the womb?
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These girls have made the replacement heifer bunch and have a good chance at ten-plus years here, whereas their steer counterparts have a much shorter horizon.
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