The sign out side still reads.
'Free' milkings to the first one hundred.
Lured in by thier own blind lust,
all are full, thick and heavy.
Willing as.
Each is checked.
Weighed And readied.
by 'More' than simple nurses.
With pretty pink wings.
The line is soon gone.
Hooked up to long clear hoses.
Secured by the pros now Imobile.
Hose too hose.
Leading under ground too the 'Queen'.
There are no back doors to this palace.
Is It Poetry
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-milking-table/
