Her teats were fat as ticks and her udder was heavy.
A little pink poked out from her vulva,
and she grunted softly while making small defecations
all around the stall. Pacing, pawing, standing up, and lying down,
she was waiting for the cover of darkness,
but when she started to sweat, the baby—perfectly well-made—
came quickly, groggy and gleaming from her insides.
Rubbing him with towels, we bowed our heads
at the straw where he lay—yeasty and squinting at us—
already alone in the bright landscape
and calling to mind remnants of defeated armies,
fleeing slaves, and refugees herded across
all the borders of the earth.