Three Poems

ilana

1 hour ago

1 min read

By Ilana Gustafson

These poems were originally published by Muse Pie Press in their Shot Glass Journal

Image sourced from the Public Domain Image Archive / Biodiversity Heritage Library / Smithsonian Libraries and Archives

The Barista Drew a Sad Face on My Cup

In the Starbucks, I hover

my hand over the two mouths of the trashcan

holding a receipt from something

I bought the day before the fire. Now,

one of my only possessions.

Grocery Outlet, a bargain market, $18.03.

The yogurt and clementines meant for

the morning are somewhere on

that toasted hillside mingled with the ashy sludge

of all the tokens not taken. I can't decide between

Landfill or Recycle, so I put my hand back

in the pocket of my only jacket, feeling

the tube of lip balm that's been there for months.

Trying to Listen While a Mantid is Dying Under Your Chair

Underneath your chair, the mantid quivers on its side while you tell me about something else you just remembered we lost in the fire. I debate whether to interrupt to tell you the mantid isn't doing too well. Yesterday, you tried to give it water in a small cap hoping it was just a little dehydrated. The quivers slow to stillness while you're describing that copy of The Tin Drum you had for twenty-something years. Annotated. I decide to not tell you. I'll place it in the rosemary bush when you get up to go inside.