Cattle Drives (poem)
Cattle Drives
Like the men who came to Texas
With only drawn-out boots for possessions
to herd cattle in the drives to Kansas,
Your face contains that old kind of copper,
Where all the best of hope and time’s resistance
Means to make well the thought of a train,
One to cover 1000 miles of distance,
But with each unit oxygen, things still remain
Like the ruffled back of a man in transit
Who gazes onto the buffalo grass.
Picturesque, the land that was before it:
The cattle drives and their greatest trespass.
It all leaves, waiting long enough alone.
Cow leather gets exchanged, your face turns grown.
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