Lachlan Miles – Unleashed

October 2025

There is a post

Middle of a field

A cow,

Tied by neck

As it wanders

Rope coils round

And range it wanders

Shorten

I can’t tell if

being with you

has me gnawing the

same grass

Or if the rope is

air and

It’s my imagination

tied to the post

How horrifying it is

the thought

that I could be

boundlessly tripping through

skies

dark light crimson blue

eating the stars

but that I don’t for

the thirst this

post slakes

I suppose the milk of

my only-human kindness

would spill

and blind the eye

of the never-blinking cosmos

Turning to day that infinite

night

Can’t have that

It must be squeezed into a

glass to be poured upon

the ground and

smashed to

delight in the

sound

But what does a cow

want for the stars?

Can’t hardly fill two

stomachs on a nebula

If I dream for the romance

of drama

Does sleep embitter me to the

real?

Do I forsake the peaceful

brook draped on the foot

of the mountain for the

mythical peak?

Why does this cow want

to climb

mountains

Or spit its essence into the

very pit of community

Does the landscape of a

group need such

valleys and

peaks

This cow is guilty of

its spots

and its leathery tongue licks

not them off

To write of the leash not here,

I write of a dream.

Because I dream of that

I do not truly know