Poem 140

thoughts on food as i move closer and closer to organic

 

So much of my youth comes back to a cornfield in Iowa.

In the heartland where my father farmers knew

That all mouths are the same shape on the inside.

& we would feed them corn and soy.

& the beef of 10,000 cattle in a single bite.

& we would bend the boars together and slice them

paper thin. Our father farmers knew

that all the mouths would taste the same

when we would feed them corn and soy

& the feat of 10,000 cattle in a single field.

Our father farmers knew that we weigh silos

with our pennies & sleep-walk to the fridge—

so much of my life belongs to a cornfield in Iowa

where livestock wade in waste-land and the poultry

knows no sun.

–ECW

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