The Row [Row] of Corn

2 09 2012

It is a mafia—marching past oats and barley. Tumbling over wheat grass with the force of ego and determination of genetically modified food. The kernel is a colonel. Its presence on my food labels is as mysterious as Rumi; yet as dangerous as Romney. Ever present and foolish this colonel/kernel floods through our blood. It causes me to wonder whether I’m going to erode and slip into another skin. If only we could slide away from our food habits as a snake slithers away from a field of empty stalks—knowing the tractor is treacherous.




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