apart from all the other stuff, is an arrow
down into the grass-its head
eyes probably excepted, is incidental
to the one essential act of its being:
turning the grown and killed earth into it.
(And by earth I mean planet.)
If it could mow rotatingly or hoover calorific dust, it would,
or even suck green slime
peristaltic through a gurgling tube.
Just so long as it was faster
But windblown stems not being convenience food
it applies itself to the drudge
of crop and cud. It can stomach,
simultaneously, a whole day of human meals,
including midnight feast.
Lifting its absent head and looking at us is, to this
a momentary decadance
without sense or remorse –
eyes not being mouths,
Milk may be our irony, as herd-keepers, and cheese
but when we eat it we eat its eating.