in the other room, the bulls

stamp and snort

their long horns scratch the walls
licked by its mother, flies gather

at the calf’s forehead

drool dropping to the floor
the smell of hay

their piss and shit

smear our shoes

no use          can’t keep it out
there’s only so much wood can do

to keep us warm

darker than dust or soot

the kindling waits to burn

everything’s black

even my heart, I think
the clock won’t let me forget

if only there was more light—

where is the sun’s one white eye

when you need it
upstairs we climb to our room

the children silent like we taught them

their eyes look at me, shining

I blow out the lamp
she is already asleep, warming our straw bed

I lift the coverlet

thankful for this small mercy