At the Hour of Milk When the barn lit up for the very first time the cows in their stanchions gave no milk The galvanized buckets deep black holes anthracitic as the ravens on the fence five in a row a line of them reaching the farm like the new electricity They appeared that evening hearing light motionless voiceless as though whittled of coal Beyond in the eerie reach of the new light the cows trembled the channels for their...
