Dead Cow Farm by Robert Graves
This one was suggested by a reader, and comes from the war poetry anthology Up the Line to Death. I confess that the title prompted me to look up that poem first (from the list). Sometimes I’m concerned about my own morbidity.
Dead Cow Farm
By Robert Graves
An ancient saga tells us how
In the beginning the First Cow
(For nothing living yet had birth
But Elemental Cow on earth)
Began to lick cold stones and mud:
Under her warm tongue flesh and blood
Blossomed, a miracle to believe:
And so was Adam born, and Eve.
Here now is chaos once again,
Primeval mud, cold stones and rain.
Here flesh decays and blood drips red,
And the Cow’s dead, the old Cow’s dead.
Last week I watched a giraffe being autopsied on tv, I have never been so fascinated. That is a reason to be concerned about your own morbidity haha!