until the cows come home

i don't want to wait anymore for 
everything to be peanut butter. you get 
the blender out & pulverize a baby tooth.
it turns into a sweet spread for crackers.
the recipe book grandmother's herself. 
i see a picture of some ancestors on a history facebook group.
they are waiting for something to give. 
we have to start accepting facts. gender is dead.
now, it's just a word that means, "here is how
i'd like to own you." as its replacement, i am proposing 
we start to make a city beneath the earth.
shut the hatch tight. grow dark flowers 
& mushrooms the size of our heads. wait for 
the cows to find us. they will come in late spring
once the rain has stopped & before the world
steps into tongue fire. right there. a hoof
on a window. the cows, our twins, crying
for us. they want to be ground beings too. they're sick
of all the metal. they say, "i want 
to be held." they dream of being
the size of jelly beans. who hasn't? i would love
to be carried in my lover's pocket. 
i don't know what do to with distances between
arrival & now. i don't want to be another
waiting ritual. sitting for an ancestor picture.
home, getting farther & farther away. 
i want to dig. i want the cows here
right now. i want their hunger & their weight.
i want a field of cows, all of them eager
& coming towards my front door. pouring
into the house. trampling all the nonsense.
the picture frames & the empty vases. the cows
putting reality tv on. making their own 
dating shows. i climb up on one of their backs
& you do too. we laugh. get as ugly as we can. 
then, we escape. re-prometheus ourselves
with a piece of the sun in our pockets. so unholy
that we kill the last gender. dry it out in the sun.
make it into sweet & salty jerky & eat.