The Cow That Hangs Back Is Still in the Herd

by Mitchell Nobis

Karsten Würth

after Buffalo Tom

The first year, I walked a lot. Saturdays in sun, nightly when the kids finally fell asleep after screens. The black dog & I went miles, found the spots where the river winds its way around cul de sacs & oil slicks. People disappeared in new & old ways. I appeared under stars, satellites, Venus, tree buds generating, making positive space in the waiting air. The moon threw the sun’s reflection at midnight, trying to spotlight us but most were hidden under roofs. Day, night, mud, breath, I don’t know. I listened to birds & the same few albums over & over. One song chanted Will you wait

Will you wait

Will you wait

Will you wait

Will you wait

Will you wait

Will you wait

Will you wait for me?

And a million times later, we know, no, nobody will wait, we will run into the cloud, into the fire, we will run, we will run into gaping jaws, we will see the snarling maw, we will see it whip back & forth, flinging spittle & blood into the air, we will see its teeth, the gristle embedded between them, the bones stuck in its gums, we will run to it, arms reaching, we will run with our mouths open to catch the skull- shaped droplets flying at us like glistening charms.

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Mitchell Nobis is a writer and K-12 teacher in Metro Detroit. His poetry has appeared in Rise Up Review, Nurture Literary, The Hopper, Hobart, and others. He facilitates Teachers as Poets for the National Writing Project and hosts the Wednesday Night Sessions reading series. Find him at @MitchNobis or mitchnobis.com.