Copper Cu, 29
Their fields were full of stones,
the fence wove its way In and out
of hollows, through scrub trees.
I liked the cows best,
their shy eyes and how
when you milked them, they stood so still,
just a tail whip now and then,
the warm milk spitting into a tin pail.
soft and malleable.
Like the copper my great-grandfather mined,
Like the bread on the table,
Like the fire in the sauna
if it was Saturday.
Like my body, hardwired, a conductor
of heat and electricity.