THE HUNGER

by Donna Katzin

Smithfield Foods, a US unit of China’s biggest pork company, has reopened its [Sioux Falls, South Dakota] processing plant after President Donald Trump ordered the US meatpacking industry to stay open despite an earlier coronavirus outbreak in such facilities across America. … Sioux Falls was thrust into the spotlight after becoming the largest coronavirus hotspot in the US, with 761 employees testing positive for Covid-19, the disease caused by the virus, according to local newspaper Argus Leader. … Some workers are refusing to return, with union leaders saying new measures put into place by companies, such as temperature checks and face masks, aren’t enough to guarantee individuals’ safety. —South China Morning Post (Hong Kong), May 7, 2020

First they kill the pigs
hanging upside down, squealing,
pleading for their lives.

Owners crave profits,
a president praise, power—
the consumers pork.

The assembly line
opens its maw—people packed    
elbow to elbow.

Workers in the web—                
trapped.  The spider virus spins,
waits for fresh meat.


Donna Katzin is the founding executive director of Shared Interest, a fund that mobilizes the human and financial resources of low-income communities of color in South and Southern Africa. A board member of Community Change in the U.S., and co-coordinator of Tipitapa Partners working in Nicaragua, she has written extensively about South Africa, community development and impact investing. Published in journals and sites including TheNewVerse.News and The Mom Egg, she is the author of With the Hands, a book of poems and photographs about post-apartheid South Africa’s process of giving birth to itself.

FIVE EXPLANATIONS

by Gilbert Allen

Kudzu kills or damages other plants by smothering them under a solid blanket of leaves, encircling woody stems and tree trunks, and breaking branches or uprooting entire trees and shrubs. Once established, kudzu grows at a rate of one foot per day; mature vines can be 100 feet long. Kudzu was introduced into the U.S. at the 1876 Philadelphia Centennial Exposition. From 1935 to the mid-1950s, farmers in the South were encouraged to plant kudzu to reduce soil erosion. Kudzu is spread by vines that root at the nodes to form new plants. To successfully control kudzu, its extensive root system must be completely eradicated by cutting vines just above the ground and mowing every month for two growing seasons—all cut material must be destroyed. The U.S. Forest Service is searching for biological control agents for kudzu. —The Nature Conservancy

1. Next to that red American clay, bare
and beckoning as a billionaire’s
baseball cap, it seemed
like a giant green blessing.

2. What else to eat in Nagasaki
in September, 1945,
but its white
indestructible roots?

3. Without kudzu, April in South Carolina
would be too full of blue
skies, flowering dogwoods, azaleas
and itself.

4. Men planted it.
Pigs love it.
Why can’t men be pigs?

5. After the first cold Tuesday in November
it still gives death
a good name.


Gilbert Allen has lived in South Carolina for forty years. His most recent books are Catma and The Final Days of Great American Shopping.

THE PARABLE OF THE BUTCHERS: TAIJI COVE VS. FACTORY FARMING

by Adrienne S. Wallner

Image source: Adventure Journal

Image source: Inhabit

Two butchers
both alike
in their savagery,
killed to eat and killed to sell.
They were both successful
and prosperous
and fat.
One butcher
slaughtered his hogs.
Stun
Stick
Scald
Split
The other butcher
slaughtered his cows.
Stun
Stick
Head
Shank
The hog butcher
used a saw
when he cut bones
and a knife to stick.
The cow butcher
used a saw
when he cut bones
and a knife to stick.
“The way you use that
rusty saw to
split your hog
is terrible,”
said the cow butcher.
“The way you use that
dull knife to
shank your cows
is horrible,”
said the hog butcher.
The butchers
wiped their cleavers
on smeared aprons.
“Something should be done
about a butcher like you,”
said the butchers.
The butchers
wiped their cleavers
on smeared aprons
and shook their heads.
Each went back home to skin.
“I’m glad I’m not a butcher like he is”
said the hog butcher.
Stun
Stick
Scald
Split
“I’m glad I’m not a butcher like he is”
said the cow butcher.
Stun
Stick
Head
Shank 


Poet, photographer, and traveler, Adrienne S. Wallner teaches composition in Wisconsin.  She is currently working on a book about her and her husband's road trip to America's National Parks.  To join the journey visit www.inkinthebranches.com.