A Moo On The Prairie: The Second Mooing Poem by Elle Rose

Henry: a friend lost but not forgotten
Years after he left to pursue his passions of drug running
I could still remember him

Those blotchy spots
Black and white

That haunting moo
Resonating throughout these low valleys

And I could never forget
Those cold, dead eyes
That told stories of loss and pain
Perseverance and masked weariness
Those eyes did not know of joy or love
They did not live: they merely survived

Life was different without Henry
I didn't have the same zest I once felt
Nothing was exciting

Everything felt like a meager attempt
Like when you only have soup at Olive Garden
So you can take your meal home and eat it another day
But your microwave never gets the center of the lasagna
And no bite is as good as that one you had in the restaurant
Even though you were stuffed and close to nauseous

Henry caused me great pain: that much I could admit
But with his absence came such a debilitating grayness
That the once strenuous nights of talking him out of jumping over the edge of the valley and ending it all
Left me missing that pleading and begging
As much as I hated it in the moment

I didn't sleep
What was the point?
I watched the sun set with a bottle of Jack Daniels
My only friend after Henry's leaving
And I watched it rise with a Hennessy hugged to my chest

Until one morning
Passed out on the porch bottles deep ​in my artificial ease

I heard it
Yes, I heard it
That moo
That moo that resonated so deep in my bones
That it shook my skull and pricked my skin

I sat straight up out of my intoxication
Tears threatened their way down my face but I forced a tough facade
I would not let Henry see me crying

Henry!
I called out
Henry! Henry!
I've been waiting for you!

As have I,
That beautiful cow said to me
But Henry is not me

And as he got closer I realized he was right
But how could he explain that distinctive moo?

Who are you? I slurred
I suddenly became embarrassed of my drunken state

I'm Beaf with an A, Not Henry said
I'm Henry's first and only son
Bore from his one-time encounter with an infamously promiscuous but beautiful heifer

Where's Henry? I sputtered
I didn't mean to bring offense to this young bull

A grave look came over his eyes
He is not here anymore

I hung my head
I wanted to feel pain
Oh, I did
I wanted to ache for the loss of my dear friend
But all that existed was the same gaping hollowness
I've felt deep in my chest for the last fifteen years

His last words instructed me to come here
I've been travelling for the last five years, Beaf said

Henry's been gone that long?
I didn't attempt to hide the aching in my voice

No, he says
I left in his last days
He must have died as soon as I left

And we were both silent for a moment
Aching for our abandonment of our dear friend
Feeling the guilt of a traitor and the sadness of a loss

Amidst our moment of pain, Beaf spoke
I must admit, he said shyly
This place is not as my father described it

He was correct
It had become rather rundown in the time Henry had been absent
The shutters lay in the torn-up yard
And my alcohol habits scattered the porch

What do you need from me?
I'm glad you've come, but what can I do for you?
I asked him

We need to train, Beaf said
To avenge my fathers' murders

I nodded
I didn't need any more than that

We got to work right away
Beaf was hardened;
He had a scar going across his face

We worked tirelessly day in and day out
Building up our strength and our speed

We jumped the hay bales

We initiated fights with old ladies leaving the market

We starved ourselves for days

We swam in the bath tub preparing to cross dangerous rivers

We killed everything that moved in the corners of our eyes

And we never, ever, rested

We would have a lot of work to do.

After months of such vigorous work
We were ready

We grabbed a sack of potatoes
Four chickens and a rooster
And set out for Mexico

The journey was an exhausting four months
We knew we had arrived when the earth emitted a yellow haze
And upon crossing the border we saw them

The thug cows.

These were the cows that grew up without mothers
They were parented by the streets

Their upbringing gave them their notorious name:
The Huffing Heifer Haters
What could bring a young cow to hate his own mother?
Only the most callous of souls could do such a thing

They saw us, and they knew
Beaf bristled
I knew he was scared, so I put on a brave face
But I was just as terrified

We fought them for three years
Biting, scratching, kicking
Some nights we ate burgers
Some nights we drank our own blood

After day-in and day-out, we had finally defeated the gang
We didn't relent until they cowered when we walked past them

All of Mexico feared us
The president begged we take his position, but we knew we had to return to the farm
We stayed in Mexico for three days
And in those seventy-two hours we were celebrated as royalty

We were brought endless food, drugs, and women
But we didn't want any of it
We only ached for Henry

As we began to make our way home as renowned heroes
One small cow came forward to thank us
We nearly stepped over him, he was so frail and weak

But something in his eyes stopped us
His sagging skin bragged of a once muscular figure

Thank you, friend
And thank you, son

Henry! We announced at the same time
And wept bitterly for his return

We thought you had died, we told him

I've been in hiding, he admitted
I thought I had it in me to take on the Huffing Heifer Haters)
But I didn't
It took an indestructible bond to break their hate

And all of us together once again returned home
With the only remnants of the Huffing Heifer Haters dried under our fingernails