slap by rustin larson

Two Poems from Rustin Larson

corn
.
Slap
.
It was confusing.  It’s
like getting on the wrong
bus and arriving at the
wrong school.  It will take
a morning of frantic phone
calls for your mom to find
you.  And then you still
might get a slap.
.
Well, it’s October now and I
still don’t care about baseball.
.
I feel maybe someone will give
me cartoonist trouble, holding
my life together with aspirin
and duct tape.  The fish
of words will swim through all
the paper.  Thanksgiving
is exactly the same up there,
except in October, and they
are still loyal to the Queen.
It’s like getting on the wrong
bus and arriving at the wrong
school.
.
Now, I have a handful of
believers.  The globe shakes
its oceans off onto the table,
and it is a wonder we
construct mail boxes out of
milk cartons; we send each
other Halloween greetings and
teeth like Indian corn.  Who
am I, your mommy?  Do
you want me to wipe your
ass?  The dirty man leaves
the telephone book alone.  We
get on the bus, relieved.  It’s
the wrong bus.
.
Bats and Spiders
.
I think I covered most of
the topics.  Not a lot has
happened to me.  I guess you
would say I’m a boring man.
I feel fortunate.  To be
honest, there are people I
detest, but they’ll get no
press here.  Bats and spiders
are in the air.  “Your
mother would never have
aborted you,” says my aunt.
Things like that get me
thinking.
.
The dead hand massages the
head of the spider and
the spider shivers.  The chimes ring,
“Uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh.”
It is now 6:30
on the same day.  I forget
what plans I had.  I’m letting
it all ferment.  It is a
fine wine we have.  I couldn’t
tell you what the story was if
I tried.
.
The violin teacher came to the door
and looked at me sadly.  She
handed me the sheet music you
had forgotten at your lesson.
The love seat we had thrown
out of the house had been
removed from the curb.  All
the juices were being sucked
downward.  The witch’s hand
felt in her shaggy purse for
a coin.  We all had to live,
ya know.
.
larson-rustin-pic
Rustin Larson’s poetry has appeared in The New Yorker, The Iowa Review, North American Review, Poetry East, The Atlanta Review and other magazines. Crazy Star was selected for the Loess Hills Book’s Poetry Series in 2005. Larson won 1st Editor’s Prize from Rhino magazine in 2000 and has won prizes for his poetry from The National Poet Hunt and The Chester H. Jones Foundation among others. A five-time Pushcart nominee, and graduate of the Vermont College MFA in Writing, Larson was an Iowa Poet at The Des Moines National Poetry Festival in 2002 and 2004, a featured writer in the DMACC Celebration of the Literary Arts in 2007, 2008, and has been highlighted on the public radio programs Live from Prairie Lights and Voices from the Prairie. He lives in Fairfield, Iowa.
.
.
.