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Her worn left hand
Grasps with subtlety the pen;
Moving vigorously; quickly.
Scribbling cowhands can’t comprehend.
She sketches with a pen
Refines with ink the final report
Articulates final Figures in ball-point
How nature intended herds to go.
Round and round with proper grip –
Too subtle for the cowboy niche.
They throw shit on her pickup –
Call her names,
In vain to diminish her.
Worn hands demonstrations of strength,
Clean the truck
Brush the steer,
Share its stall
She knows what it feels to be the herd
Unheard, scribbling it down in pen.
She’s a cowhand true
Who sees no point in suffering,
Extra work herding
Misunderstanding costs are true
Mind-melds create drawings of ink.
Turned away, turn away
Odd girl who doesn’t belong
Go away lest you rue
The day the cowboys brought you down.
She is so aware,
Knows the efficient way –
To butcher a cow.
The first, an autistic female cow hand