Saturday
Jan202018

Cows

José Angel Araguz


 

The ocean moves
like cows

my child eyes spied
nightly at my tia's rancho.

Cows shift
with the subtlety of

clock hands
shuffling

another minute.
My breath

rises in patches,
the night briefly cow.

I sink hands into
coat pockets. No matter

how far I reach,
cold reaches deeper,

burns the coin
between my fingers.