winter prys its icy fingers
into the crack of the huge sliding door,
pointed colors gust in the car exhaust.
greasy joe slides under a car
&wrenches at pipes, straining
not unlike a man milking a cow
in the frost of four a.m. iowa
he loosens a nut that drains the oil
and the cow wobbles
weakheaded. he puts a feedsack over the hood
and gives the back fender a
fleshy, familiar slap
1986 Lawrence Ks
Published in Allegheny Review
William Herbert Carruth poetry prize KU 1987
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