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      July 7, 2022Dallas WiebeA Kansas Lullaby

      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 Issue #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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