i was daydreaming
when i stumbled
upon the
large Australian
cockroach
on our
driveway
i scooped
it up
in an empty
paper cup
and brought it
inside
the house
i remember
my wife
screaming
bloody murder
before i
had even
shown it
to her
she must have
sensed
its presence
but that’s how
it goes
one night
you’re sitting
alone
on the couch
watching TV
when suddenly
bugs arrive
to eat you
up
—from CRUDELY MISTAKEN FOR LIFE
it was
the middle of the night
when my daughter started screaming
about the bugs in her bed.
i entered her room
and found one solitary ladybug
crawling across her blanket.
“don’t worry, honey,
it’s only a ladybug,”
i said, “besides,
a ladybug in your bed is good luck.
you’re a very, very lucky girl.”
as i released it
outside in the dirt
i thought about all the bugs
waiting for us—
the many bugs that will come
to feast in our beds
when our good luck
finally runs out
—from THE ABYSS GAZES ALSO
every September,
Thelma and i would drink a few beers
then prune the apple tree
that we’d planted together in my front yard.
i remember her bright pink sun hat,
her long brown cigarettes,
and how she was always humming
a Patsy Cline tune.
it was a tradition that spanned twenty years.
today,
i’ll prune the apple tree alone,
lay a single yellow daffodil
by her grave stone,
then stare at these pictures on the wall
and drink beer
until her memory starts to sing
“Crazy” to me.
—from FACTORY REJECT
Sarah
is dying.
she
started
a bucket
list.
after weeks
of contemplation
she couldn’t think
of one
single thing
to add.
good girl.
you
are
ready.
—from THE STENCH OF FAILURE
you
were born
the seventh son
of a seventh son,
yet
you did
nothing
special
with your
life.
you
were King Midas
in reverse—
everything
you touched
turned
to shit:
your business,
your marriage,
your relationship
with me.
you
died at 63,
throat cancer.
Dad,
i guess
you weren’t
special,
after
all.
—from ENJOY OBLIVION
my first day
they put me to work
in the deli
where i was forced
to wear a hair net
and beard guard.
at lunch,
i raced home
and shaved
my face clean.
the only thing
worse than wearing
a beard guard
is working
in a deli.
the only thing
worse than working
in a deli
is working in a deli
at MegaMart.
the only thing
worse than working
in a deli at MegaMart
is working at MegaMart.
the only thing
worse than working
at MegaMart
is starving.
—from RENTED MULE
we were drunk
in the heart
of the Vegas strip
when we stumbled
into the piano bar.
it was in the middle
of the most gorgeous
Chopin concerto
when i realized
the pianist
was playing the keys
with his dick.
when i realized
the pianist
was playing the keys
with his dick.
“holy shit, Honey,”
i said,
“that guy’s cock
must be at least thirteen
fucking inches!”
my wife
just chugged her beer,
laughed,
then said
“yeah,
and he plays
a better piano
than you
too!”
—from SAVAGE LOVE
Note that the cover illustration is by the Swedish artist Janne Karlsson.
Wolfgang Carstens lives in Canada with his wife, five kids, grandson, dog, mortgage and death. His poetry is printed on the backs of unpaid bills. More information is available at: http://www.wolfgangcarstens.com/
