James Babbs- Three Poems

James Babbs continues to live and write from the same small Illinois town where he grew up.  He has published hundreds of poems over the past thirty years and, recently, a few short stories.  James is the author of Disturbing The Light(2013) & The Weight of Invisible Things(2013).

Where I Live

you see cows gathered in pastures

cows staring back at you

with their large dreamy eyes

beautiful horses standing like statues

horses

with beautiful women on their backs

sometimes the bodies of dead pigs

dead pigs bloated

their legs pointed toward the sky

the acres of corn

bean fields and

rows of corn growing so tall

you have to slow down

sometimes at the crossroads

and watch out for approaching cars

trees everywhere

trees in the summertime

so green and full

the sky

the persistent sound of birds

and the wide open spaces

where you feel like you can breathe

wide open spaces

not such a bad place

plenty of space for you to move around

but sometimes you get stuck

sometimes

you get stuck driving

behind slow-moving tractors

stuck behind big farm trucks

hauling loads of grain into town

sometimes

you get stuck thinking

it’s some place not good enough

a different kind of place

sometimes you wish

you were some place other than this

Frog In the Mailbox

there we were again

drinking cheap red wine

sitting out on the back deck

under the fading evening light

she told me

she’d had a busy week at work

because

Missy or Misty or somebody was gone

and we’re short-handed anyway

she said

and they won’t hire any more people

they just expect us to do it all

I picked up the bottle

and refilled my glass

what about you she asked

oh I said you know

the same old thing

sort the mail

deliver the mail

the next day

do it all over again

she laughed

and held up her glass

I leaned forward

poured her more wine

I said the other day

I found a frog

in somebody’s mailbox

what she said

I laughed

yeah I said

when I opened the door

a little frog

about the size of my thumb

was sitting in there

what did you do she asked

nothing I said

stuck the mail in there

and closed the door

she laughed

slowly sipped her wine

I didn’t say anymore

I just sat back in my chair

and looked up at the sky

there wasn’t much light left

not much light at all

Up Ahead

I see windmills facing west

blades slowly turning

beneath the cloud-filled sky

shades of gray

the hint of rain

clouds almost close enough

for me to touch

dead deer sprawled

at the edge of the road

head eaten away

tall grass trampled on

last night

I told you

how much I loved you and

you just sat there

peering through the window

without saying anything