Cows are made of splotched marble; milk builds a palace:
A tower of liquid ivory gleams, glistening angelically in the sunshine, but
how does one differentiate milk from an enveloping blizzard through the crystalline winter,
or rather,
how does one differentiate white from white enveloping white –
you’re right, have chocolate milk:
pearls turning into mahogany delight; bronze in a snowy paradise that
makes mocha delight,
liberating milk’s arctic shudder down your spine;
milk chills and bones chill, as they are the same
calcium fortresses of the Earth’s ingenuity:
milk builds pristine civilizations; it nurtures us in
a silky cloth to a pale gravestone.
Basically, milk is life.
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