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
consequences.

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”

    Related Posts

    Celebrate Poetry Month with Apogee!
    Announcing Apogee Issue 15
    Black and white image of Puerto Rican poet Salvador Villanueva as a young man. He has coarse black hair and beard. He wears a white button-down shirt with rolled up sleeves at the elbows. It seems he is gesturing to someone off-screen in the middle of conversation.
    The Anti-Poetry of Salvador Villanueva

    Leave a Reply

    Shopping cart

    Subtotal
    Shipping and discount codes are added at checkout.
    Checkout