• Vol. 07
  • Chapter 02
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Spilt Milk

Never from mother’s breasts
that dried up after she gave birth.
Father made us taste it
right from the cow’s teat
warm and creamy,
milk tasting of grass.
I spat it out.
Give me milk from a box!

Children had to take their turn
in the separator room
at the back of the house.
Cream and milk in separate cans
bottled and delivered to other farms.

In boarding school
milk at every meal
during breaks and after sport,
separated and thinned with water
to a blueish colour.
Drink it fast, don’t make it last
white moustache on upper lip.

Oh! For the discovery of condensed milk,
Ideal Milk, milkshakes, flavoured milk.
Sugar poison in plastic containers,
wilful destruction of body and planet.
Humans in existential angst
rage about their future
rage at governments
forget to clean up after themselves—