GHAZAL FOR MATILDA
				    
       "...At the Shafter Ranch, a fault crevice was momentarily so wide as to admit 
       a cow which fell in head first and was thus entombed. The closure which 
       immediately followed left only the tail visible."   

       - G. K. Gilbert, Report of State Earthquake Investigation Commission, 1908   
  
The ground sprouts cows   
that grow like albino asparagus.   
  
Life: some cows leap moons, burn down cities,   
some awkwardly fill cow-shaped crevices in the ground.   
  
Bones ground by sandstone and serpentine grind North, maybe scraping   
you toward Alaska, two inches closer each April.   
  
Ground beef?   
I'd never use such a pun.   
  
How does this affect my theology: to know my God is a mighty God   
who wears black, tips cows at 5am.   
  
Gaia, you shameless omnivore:   
hamburger for breakfast?   
  
With my feet braced on the moon, I could grasp that tail and swing   
the earth around my head like a blue balloon.   
  
Matilda, nose to grinding stone,   
it wouldn't matter if you had a hundred stomachs and golden udders.   
  
"Moo?"   
"Moo!"   
  
A dog pulled that tail, his own wagging like a one-winged hummingbird's   
one wing.   
Dreaming of endless dinner, he only snapped off a leathery snack.   
  
Matilda, in that split-   
second of waking and tumbling, how Agnostic were you?   
  
Standing on your nose, breathing stones,   
do you, cow, do you at last look interested in what surrounds you?