[Editors’ Note: Learn about how the “Nine Poets Speak” series came to be in place here.]

Author’s note about the photo: I have heaps of photos of cows, but I rather like these two lesbian cows on the corner of a temple in Chennai where I spent four months on a literature residency writing Cow. © Susan Hawthorne 2013 (20 September).
there was a time when we were not exiles
a time when paradise was not some imagined garden
walled from our world
paradise was here and now
in that time and in that place
we long-horned four-footed ones
were honoured and rejected
just as often or rarely as anyone
our horns our feet our udders
were nothing special
but they were us
one day someone said
you lot
we looked around to see if we were that lot
yes said this person
you long-horned four-footed ones with dugs
it is time for you to go
take with you your golden calves
for you are no longer welcome here
that was the day we were cast out exiled
from the place some now call paradise
the walls were high covered by thorns
in spite of our usefulness
we were we no longer welcome
we were spat upon
great gobs of spit spewed our way
landing if we were lucky at our feet
and if not in our hides and on our skin
they sent the children out
from the garden behind the wall
to throw stones at us
you could see them looking
with shining eyes
for the biggest missile
stones and rocks flung by young fingers
we tried to ignore it
walking on in silence
we lowed together
we tried to stop it
but one day one of us
in a fever of anger
lashed out gored him
son of the most
important man
in the village
after that it was all out war
if we ventured through their village
took a short cut across their fields
if they saw our outline on the ridge
they came for us
some of us were killed
some of us were captured
they tied us to the millstone
to the water wheel
had us walking an eternity of circles
yoked us to the cart
whipped us
took us to their battle fields
we hauled we carried we bled
we were abandoned when they fled
some of us escaped
travelled in groups
some towards the rising sun
some towards the setting sun
you will find us in these places
at the edges of every known world
like it or not we are everywhere
Author’s Note: dugs: Sanskrit dugdha: milked. © Susan Hawthorne, 2011. Cow, Melbourne: Spinifex Press
https://www.spinifexpress.com.au/shop/p/9781876756888
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