Heavy Fertilization

The crop yields are at an all-time high. Famine has left the continent. Corn silos overflow in Iowa and Ohio. Heads itch with lice-like knowledge. This is not a call to arms. Where there are hills and rivers, there are coal seams, petroleum, all get-out. Coffee beans are endangered, and rhinoceros manure will never be used to fertilize the far-flung plains again. Gulp. Old chicken-wing bones litter the root-pocked brick road next to the bus stop. A crow sings its name, sings its name, sings its name. A squirrel fell from a powerline, rigor mortis setting in, not a fright but sweet comfort to the flies who crawl all about it, dotting like coarse pepper on ribeye. We danced on the grates. In the next election, the people will Take action!! No one has taken us “seriously” and now we pay a ransom. In ancient mythology, the prime motivation for transgression is lust. In reality, hunger. Today, heavy fertilization. Nitrogen charges into rivers and algae declare a national holiday. Fish choke. A barbed hook in a thumb stretches flesh like a rubber band. Pack yr squirrel pelt in the yeti and bike to market. The scarecrow in the wheat field has one thousand stories to tell if only rattling arms could translate into words, if only the lips were moving. It is not an illusion. Still, the rusty wheat stalks will not stop swaying in the bronze-blown wind.