Poetry by Alana Folsom

Another Story of the Eye

Today the men will examine a cunt/ like a cow’s eye./ There’s the macula. The fatty/
tissue. The labia. The blind/ spot, two to three inches up, spongy and/ throbbing.

The men hook their fingers,/ feel how it gives,/ feel how it pulls. They want/ to undo the
mystery/ they’ve insisted exists.

The girl in Story of the Eye[1] says/ that the word “egg” reminds her of/ a calf’s eye. I
imagine rows and rows/ of glistening eyes waiting/ for some flies’ flit and land./ They
blink. The sounds of/ machines cycling in the background.

According to beefusa.com, “Family/ farmers and ranchers have finished/ cattle in
confined settings for hundreds of years.”/ In this context, “finish” means/ fatten, not
come./ The cows are made more/ palatable, made easier for consumption.

Her, saved/ from her anatomy./ Her, understood/ in some removed room.

In Story of the Eye, this girl/ cracks raw eggs between her ass cheeks/ while her lover
comes/ on her face, which she delights in.

I learn/ the way they make hamburger meat is/ they take the cows/ away from the things
the cows know/ and put them around things the cows don’t/ and then feed the cows/ until
they’re big enough/ to be dead.

Because it has happened for centuries/ it is okay.

Her eggs, legislated/ by men. Men who don’t blink/ as they strip away her/ power over
her body.

According to Sontag, pornography “reports only/ the motiveless tireless transactions/ of
depersonalized organs.”[2] Rather than/ the whole human, tangled up/ with feelings and

Each part of the cow is used/ in meat production. Each organ and muscle/ chopped or
ground. Each organ/ and muscle separated for its particular use.

At the end/ of every Netflix documentary, I swear/ off porn or meat or humankind./ I
erase my history/ remove videos like/ Cunt Gets It Deep.

I am hoping they chose/ to be on my screen, find delight/ even more than I do in the
clenching, internal rush./ I am hoping I am not damaging/ women by clicking, by
consuming, by coming.

I am hoping I can see/ the whole and its parts.

[1] Georges Bataille, The Story of the Eye

[2] Susan Sontag, The Styles of Radical Will, “The Pornographic Imagination”

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