Ethereal blinds of misty gray sky

Surround a car along a lonely road.

I look ninety-three million miles away,

But my eyes cloud with the cataracts of the earth.

Six feet away a wooden fence

To fence us in for their defense.

The cows don’t even look up.

What is the fog to a cow?

We look to see if we can see through—

Squinting eyes to pull back the curtains.

But in doing so,

We blind the future with our headlights.

And yet the cows look upon the ground.

Bowing heads as though they pray

To fiery orange tall grass, to heaven.

Chewing cud, again, again, again, again.

I wonder if they know their future.

That all it would take is one escape

For sons and daughters to take to slaughter.

They smile coyly, as though they do.

Perhaps that is why they are livestock.

For while they are, they live.

Knowing full well

They’d rather be broken of body than broken of mind.

Rahil Zaveri is a Criminology and English double major at the University of Florida. In his free time, he likes to enjoy the little things in life: food, photography, and the farmers market on a Saturday morning.