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      April 3, 2021The LouvresMatt Zambito

      Cows stare with “Mona Lisa” eyes—
      mysterious, brown, famous with a genius
      behind the creation. Stick a cow
      in a museum, and you should be there
      with your boots on; you should tromp
      right through her mess if you must.
      The patrons who’d carry $12
      cocktails constantly if they could would
      stay home, and that’s where you’d feel
      staring into those eyes, darker and deeper
      than any oils. You’d want to rub
      the thin fur covering the thick
      skull, her face, tilted up toward you,
      chewing, and whisper, “Oh, it’s okay, it’s okay …”
      Of course, the cow, priceless as a herd
      of Louvres, would stand fairly still, tail flapping
      at imaginary flies, wondering, as they do
      whenever they see us, “What’s wrong?”

      from #29 - Summer 2008

      Matt Zambito

      “At the 2004 Ohio State Fair, a cow rubbed its face up against my shoulder. Looking into its eyes, I saw myself reflected, and decided then and there to stop eating meat. So I guess you could say I love cows enough not to gobble them up. I often write poems about things I love, hoping I’ll convince others to love those things, too.”