“A Kansas Lullaby” by Dallas Wiebe

Dallas Wiebe


It’s the dust in your eyes
  that lulls you away.
It’s the trucks passing through
  that hum you to sleep.
It’s the fly on the screen
  that gives you your dreams.
Fat bodies at the plates.
Food galore. Appetites unending.
Water, tea, and coffee no use.
The motel cracking and popping.
Soft pillows, hard sheets,
  quilts made by arthritic fingers.
Bibles wilting
  at their golden thumb-slots.
It’s delicious to fade away
  into the windy night.
It’s filling
  to end the heat,
And it’s nourishing
  to give it up
Where the locals eat
  with their hats on,
Your motel room is equipped
  with a flyswatter
And the toothpicks
  come secondhand.

from Rattle #8, Winter 1997


Dallas Wiebe: “A retired professor of English, I live in Cincinnati, Ohio, and devote my time to reading, writing, and promoting local poets. I am at work on three main projects: a collection of poems about Mozart, a rewrite of my collected stories, and a book of poems and short stories about how awful it is to get old.”

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