Poetry: Selections from John Tustin

A Bird or an Airplane

Imagine for a moment you are

The small insignificant animal you really are

 

And imagine you are on some vast plain

Without shade or cover for a few moments

 

And imagine there is something high above you

That casts a large shadow upon your helplessness.

 

Now, imagine you look up in the sky

And you see either a large predatory bird or an airplane:

 

Whether you would rather it’s a predatory bird

That may swoop down and try to devour you

 

Or rather it’s an airplane full of society

That will disembark and surround you with humanity

 

Will tell you whether you would rather die all at once in great pain

Or piece by piece over much too much time to notice it’s even happening.

Crossed-Out Lines

As I type out words

like I’m driving spikes

 

it’s the crossed-out lines

that would make you stagger;

 

the crossed-out lines

too much honesty for its own sake;

 

the crossed-out lines

I LOVE YOU/I WANT YOU/I MISS YOU/I HATE YOU.

 

Struck through for being too obvious,

revealing, soaked in rain and tears.

 

It’s far more literary to infer

than it is to exclaim

 

so I crossed out the last two lines

of this poem.

 

The end is down below, naked

but unrevealed.

 

Finish it

yourself.

I Went There

I went there and we made love

And then I came back here.

I was going to go there again

But she told me not to come

And I did what I was told

Even though I wanted to go there again

And make love again.

She wanted to come here

But there is really no room here,

Not even room enough for me.

Maybe someday, but not now.

 

I didn’t say hello enough

So she said goodbye.

 

I went there and I wanted to go there again.

Maybe later she could come here

Even though there isn’t enough room here

For even me.

I was invited and then she changed her mind

After she knew me better.

I went there once but

I won’t go there

Anymore.

 

I didn’t say hello enough

So she said goodbye.

I think about that,

Then I brush my teeth

And go to bed.

Love was a Business

I had no idea

that love was a business to you

and that you were just a grifter

when we agreed

to the merger of our hearts.

You've emptied all accounts

and moved on to the next grift

as I cry over the falsified receipts

and file these bankruptcy papers

alone.

All checks cancelled.

Transaction incomplete.

Milk

The milk of human kindness

Is sour.

I stand in the refrigerator light,

Pouring it down the drain.

 

The blood of the lamb

Is curdled.

I smear it on the doorframe

For nothing.

 

The water of life

Flows downward

Into a darkness.

John Tustin’s poetry has appeared in many disparate literary journals in the last dozen years. For a complete list of his publication credits click here.