i buy you a cow

we bring her to the moon. tell her to drink
until time stops. i have been hungry 
in the old ways. persimmon tongued 
without enough sugar. i was wrong to think
there is a life for us behind some door. still i pull them
& behind none are cows. instead,
there are coat hangers & copy machines.
people sitting around a board room table
making choices about the future of water about
how & where our hearts will be useful fruit. 
my ghost has a hollow she goes to when she
needs to be dangerous. we cut down a tree 
& find a cow inside. we open the crawlspace
& discover my father sleeping there. he had
been looking for the moon in all the small places.
the gone time is here. it is far too late. 
all there is left to do is suck on a crab apple
& harvest the stars. i used to ask you if you thought
i was a boy or a girl. now i ask, "do you think i am
the cow or you?" i know it is me. i am holding 
a whole future in my guts. the grass shrinks 
in autumn. the dampening of the wings at night.
soft seeds. we turn on the oven & pretend we are
about to eat something. open all the windows.
cows come from every direction. i say,
"we are home." you are delighted. we find a boarder 
& turn it into a jump rope. the office buildings 
have no cows. up the street they are talking
to money. they are holding money. they are 
digging in the field for money. they find all of it.
they have no cows. someone of them turn their
loved ones into money. so much of it. 
still no milk. no moon. our first cow, full 
of so much light. gibbous in her irises. 
she asks us, "how long until they find us there?"