The Iowa Source

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Description of my blog

Untagged  3 Apr 2017
rustin
THE SINGING by Rustin Larson

Even after a full day

of housekeeping

at Johnny and Kaye's

near the airport, stripping

the sheets

of Robert Goulet

and other famous

passersthrough,

she would stand at home

at the sink with her bucket

of potatoes, and peel

and slice

as the lard melted

in the skillet. 

She would hum

like Loretta Lynn,

whistle a song

like a sparrow striped

as the vast night

wheeled out of the east

and made plans

vined into the suffering

of every soul.

She was someone else’s mother

standing at her kitchen door

watching

as the fireflies bedazzled.



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