In 1993, three Montana artists won a state grant to paint large words in
vegetable dye on the flanks of cows, and then photograph their impromptu
Blue beyond repair,
every river runs between us.
Do I see way clear to forgive?
Cows spread out like words--
magic, or flowers by the fence.
They sing to call us back:
bloo, blooo. Similar hearts, similar
cages, how long do we banish
our love? Every river is the sea, way
it circles earth. We surfaced
the fractures, stumbled,
and seamed in triumph. No sound
like the waves that crash with us,
boxing our bodies in a boil
of breakers. Brother and
sister were always separate.
We shared the game. And look at us,
now, mimicking waves, currents,
undertow--what is your name,
wait for me, I'm gone.