My Western

my mother forgot the suitcase
with her boots, lost me
among her uncles' houses,
the farms spread out like
fingers, her calls faded
in the falling telephone wires

and the cows shat and shat
and shat in the cinderblock
milking shed, the rooms of
mechanized vats churning
the smell of baby vomit

our hands and Osh-Kosh
overalls sized exactly
the same, we learned how
to use a bullwhip on the new
calves, your older brother

showed me his Harley: we
crashed together in a mucky,
sweet-smelling ditch, the yelping
one-eyed shepherd always behind us