Confession.(Poem)

   I hereby confess to coming 
   from stifling rooms and stables in which 
   fattening bulls stood harnessed in chains 
   on grates and bellowed. Confess 
 
   further to the sharp stink 
   of sour-leaf muck cigarettes. To the cold 
   smell of metal and the musty smell of old 
   oil. And confess further to the straw 
 
   and the hay and the grain on the ground 
   dry fodder and groats in crates 
   to the powdered milk I mixed with water 
   for calves. Confess 
 
   to the storks and swallows 
   to buzzard kite and lapwing and crow 
   to fox and deer and to the bloody hare 
   on my back at a drive ...