When I was a child
We climbed the chain link fence when the parade passed by
hooked our hands and feet and leaned our bodies out like
kites filled with wind
high in a tree I inched out on a branch
to feel its sinking
that boy who showed us his farm, told us
the bull is gentle, but our cows are mean
took us up close to that bull
and laid my hand on its broad side near the belly
massive like a wall
but breath moved through it
the bull, my hand, me
he took us to the barn, the piled up bales of hay
and below them the crib filled deep with it, loose
we climbed the bales and threw ourselves out
our bodies safe
over the loose soft hay
that’s what it was, that’s what I lost
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