KJ Hannah Greenberg
and Amy Alley

Amy Alley
Inspiration piece

Unveigled among the Rows: Rotations of Moonlit Bleeding
By KJ Hannah Greenberg


We dance; menarche, menses, menopause, womanly brinell weathered, meted out
Through monthly doses, jocund around the sugar maples, ecstatic among soy and corn.
Land owners, corporate managers, other bristly sorts, their kin, can’t comprehend
That such participation in cultivation rites, this construction of verities from crops,
Might, perhaps, reduce female vulnerabilities, could well convert misogynous views,
Providing that our best girlfriends continuously gambol among squash, rye, cress.

Meanwhile, autochthonous, male evils will get skipped out. Fields will bloom, pastures flourish.
Weak plantings will reach, develop, yield illustrious harvests. Plus, us chicks, signets, ducklings
Will know all slimy, slick, wen-covered rhetoric as dissolved to nothing, as blinked away.
Every single barnyard darling will be freed of force-feeding, beak clipping, other heinous acts,
Lose susceptible to eating disorders, depersonalized neuroses, additional disassociations,
Stop compelling our dear ones to verify, if not to legitimize, the other sex’s rectitude.
Felicitous gals, we’ll require the cessation of striving to make manikins feel better. Immediately.
Instead, our flock will endeavor, afresh, to pull down the sun, to sing forward the rain,
To urge nature back. On balance, there’s terroirs enough for each sister.
Hence, moon by moon, we must entice, lure, ensnare, seize, abduct, or else carry away
Residuals of expension, bits of masculine detritus, gender prejudice. To wit, we’ll bleed, at night,
Nourishing well, by dint of our innards, the sorts of vegetation that best suits women.