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Poem	In my dream I milked a cow, the terrible udder like a great rubber lily sweated in my fingers and as I yanked, waiting for the moon juice, waiting for the white mother, blood spurted from it and covered me with shame. Then God spoke to me and said: People say only good things about Christmas. If they want to say something bad, they whisper. So I went to the well and drew a baby out of the hollow water. Then God spoke to me and said: Here. Take this gingerbread lady and put her in your oven. When the cow gives blood and the Christ is born we must all eat sacrifices. We must all eat beautiful women.
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