the tassels brown, mauve, golden
top the corn flow, rising off into
distances. Male corn sperm ready
to give themselves to the silk.
we’ve built a country upon you
friends, food, fuel, silage for the
feeders of the world. hybrid, pure
bred, homeopathic heart of the
maize of our aztec ancestors,
we formed you into the green
gold grain of our growth, over
flowing into cross country seas
while Pretty Boy Floyd the outlaw
dove and died into your midst,
running for his life in the hope
that your breadth might hide him.
homes, farms, families have devoured
themselves in the resounding of
your might. tassel tips waving, silk
at the rest, come now to our aid,
as we starve amongst the plenty.