Cornfields Are Ouchy
Cornfields are ouchy, I know. I am from the corn state – Iowa.
Corn grows on tall stalks, out in a field that has gobs of
fat green worms.
You need a tractor to get through it.
Or a tank.
But farmers do not have tanks.
You cannot see anything except corn stalks when
you get there; rows and rows of them.
Taller than people. There is no running. Moving
is difficult. There is a corn smell too, but a smell
so unique to corn, it cannot be understood.
It must be lived.
The corn husks are tough, rough, they hurt your hands.
The stalks are painful to step on,
The corn itself is nothing like the canned corn you eat.
Hard as a fork tine, please do not try and bite it out here.
Cornfields are ouchy and itchy.
I know. I am from the corn state.
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2019
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment