THREE POEMS by CHRIS STUBENRAUCH
I Had a Dream About You
You’re sitting on the wrap-around porch,
knitting a sweater on fire.
You hum away and keep knitting.
I am bringing up buckets filled with nothing,
the aquifer we know perfectly well
disguised this particular day as solid rock.
It’s a mirage, this whole place,
or another dusty day on the Plains
that someone is going to live.
We get up in the morning and take the horses
out for as long as they can muster.
The jars, still warm from the bath, meanwhile,
await fruit in the kitchen.
This time of year, we wrestle
with Death like a kid brother.
Soon, the weatherman will come on the air
and tell you that to meet God where He is,
you’ll have to kneel.
Things To Do
You send me a whole list of things to do
and we do absolutely none of it.
I would like to stand on the beach at Saylorville
or horseback out to the base of Scottsbluff
and talk with some farmhands.
In this city, we can see the descending Sun.
The perfect place on a weekday is on top
of a Ferris Wheel in Okoboji or standing
on the dock below.
On the weekend, it is standing
on the green grass so brilliant
it must have been thought up by the cows.
Who lives here? The same folks that once enjoyed
a quick swim in Lake Mac and dried off
to join a half-assed poker game
on the hotel room floor.
Sweetheart, I Think Someone Slipped Something In Our Drinks
Let’s sit here on the curb for a while,
catch our breath,
and pray it doesn’t rain.
If it does, all the little droplets
will feel like the shuffling feet
of a hundred alley cats walking
a tightrope at midnight,
each pair trying not to be seen.
Chris Stubenrauch (he/they) is a space weather scientist and sometimes-poet from near Baltimore, Maryland and an editor at Prairie Home Magazine, a magazine he just made up so he can say he's the editor of something and have it sound super cool. His favorite poet is Charles Simic.