Too contented
To know how to react
When things go sour, what’s left
Of the cows remains
In various stages
Of rot in empty stalls—
And the phantom farmers?
Steeped as they were in high-
On-the-hog atomic subsidies,
One surmises they knew
Better than to stick around
Too long and high-tailed it
Out of the premises
While the milking was still good—
But this remains idle speculation
Till the day they feel the answer truly
Seeping in deep down in their bones.
