The corn discharges its flavor like a battery and I feel everything with the anxious fingers of the newly disemployed.
Writing by Cynthia Gallaher
Art by Katy Somerville

Worker – Age 55
I’ve carried a piece of Indian corn
under my tongue all autumn,
while a squirrel waits for me
on my back porch every morning.
I see leaves in
eight shades of orange
go on for miles in the city.
Some offer resistance
to the powers of October,
but fall, nonetheless,
into the Indian summer ground,
passed over by winter.
The corn discharges its flavor
like a battery.
I feel everything
with anxious fingers
of the newly disemployed,
and see what took years
of endless summers,
scatter like so many acorns.
Newspapers blow under my footfall,
but steel toes
can’t get a grip
on the classifieds.
There are no jobs for us,
but only to stop life’s pages
from blowing worthlessly as tumbleweed,
littering an urban desert.
A single seed of corn
lies under my tongue
like something young,
like hope,
but the same yellow form
is reflected like a mote
from my late husband’s eye.
I bury the kernel
in a small patch of earth,
in the park at Irving and Central,
and pray the squirrel,
who’s waited so long,
so respectfully,
goes quickly in quest of it,
unearthing it from under the snow,
like a tiny cold sun, come January.
About the Author
Cynthia Gallaher, a Chicago-based poet, is author of four poetry collections, including Epicurean Ecstasy: More Poems About Food, Drink, Herbs and Spices, and three chapbooks, including Drenched. Her award-winning nonfiction/memoir/creativity guide is Frugal Poets’ Guide to Life: How to Live a Poetic Life, Even If You Aren’t a Poet.
About the Artist
Katy Somerville was beamed into existence on a Monday night in the mid-eighties by stars, glitter, and a glorious Italian woman from a long line of very strong women. In the present timeline, she likes to drink coffee, pat any animal that will engage with her, make collages, and spend time laughing and finding moments of joy wherever she can with her partner and her goofy, lanky dog.
Katy is Cream Scene co-editor & Art Director
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