Poetry by Clare Best

 

(ii) Listening to Lincoln Red
for Bruce

They puff and bellow - a chorus
for the east wind in the metal roof -

keeping time with their feet,
trampling the straw, no let up

between the rub and rattle
of the iron feed bar, gush and pour

of piss, soft percussion of cowpat
hitting the floor. Lean in close

for the steady rhythm as jaws move
round and round - slow, soothing

repetition; hear the cattle snort,
exchanging air, the humid in-breath

out-breath, moan and vibration
of the barn itself - all at one.