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The Night My Father Punched the Cow
The night my father punched the cow
Was dark and windy, late; and now
His job was dangling on a row,
And he was sick of it, somehow
__That night.
He broke his hand, and held it tight
In place throughout that fractious night—
My mother thought, in early light,
Thank God the cow was there in sight,
__To fight!
She stated, in words terse and spare,
That what he did was plain unfair.
She offered up an icy stare—
Then turned and left him standing there—
__Not right!
She had to milk the blasted thing
And twice a day milk made a ring
Within the pail, and everything
It touched began to curdle, cling—
__A true delight!
We kids said nothing of dad’s fit.
We knew the cow should not be hit;
Not dog nor goat, not cat nor kit
Or horse, though children asked for it
__All right.
While healing, he avoided drink
And slept beside the kitchen sink.
This thing had raised an awful stink
Which gave him lots of time to think—
__Not quite!
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Sally Cook is both a poet and a painter of magical realism. Her poems have also appeared in Blue Unicorn, First Things, Chronicles, The Formalist Portal, Light Quarterly, National Review, Pennsylvania Review, TRINACRIA, and other electronic and print journals. A six-time nominee for a Pushcart award, in 2007 Cook was featured poet in The Raintown Review. She has received several awards from the World Order of Narrative and Formalist Poets, and her Best American Poetry Challenge-winning poem “As the Underworld Turns” was published in Pool.
A deceptively simple looking poem – partly because it reads so seamlessly, full of insight, wisdom and humour.
It’s the type of poem I would have loved to have read as a kid in a school textbook, both for its style and entertaining content, touching on, as it does, elements of history, culture and the concept of right and wrong.
Thanks for the read, Sally.
Oh, and great title and picture!
I am certain you are playing on the true west notion of a cowboy being called a “cowpuncher.” This is a hilarious counter using such a theme while changing the meaning of what happened to the one who did the punching. This was so much fun to read your poetic story.
Sally, this is a lyric form worthy of you as a relative of Charles d’Orleans. The limited number of rhyme sounds, longer and shorter lines combined to fashion a special stanza, with rhyme words that all sound natural for the topic, characterize him. The expert use of these features belongs to both of you. The story is characteristic of your personal repertoire, depicting another scene in your early life with those parents your readers have come to know. “A true delight!”
To everyone here at the SCP:
Sally Cook has been in the hospital, and is now in rehab. She will not be able to comment on this discussion thread for a while. I’m sure she is grateful for all of your comments.
This poem is a whimsical delight of great skill, Sally! An engaging story told with great wit and musicality. I especially like those final short lines at the end of each stanza. They act like a punchline or a poetic “ta-da!” Browning did something like this in “Love Among the Ruins.”
Best wishes, Sally, on a speedy recovery. Here’s to your good health!
Dear Sally,
I personally know two men who have broken a hand punching livestock. (One punched a cow, the other a goat.) Having owned both cows and goats, I also can related the exasperation that could provoke such a punching.
Thank you for this deliciously well told tale.
Gigi
Wonderful! I’ll need to read it a couple more times to fully appreciate the form, but as someone who grew up on a farm, it rings true!
I like the “Not quite” at the end. I’m hoping the father changed his ways after having time to reflect but change rarely happens in an instant. Perhaps over time? Nevertheless, better to punch a cow than some of the alternatives.
I’ve read it a number of times and enjoy it each time. And I like how you tie the stanzas together with the rhyming of each fifth line. It’s just a spirited poem that the reader must enjoy. Except for punching the cow. Ow.
The tintinnabulation of the cow. And how. With rhyme that is sublime. Definitely worth my time. I…
Alright.. I’ll go now.
Sally, seriously, well done! If there are no poems of quality that children (and less complicated minds like mine) can enjoy, what hope have we for the future of poetry? Keep going! And get better to write more poetry. Please!