Tag Archives: Ian Willey

Ian Willey

A Wonderful Life

It’s drizzling here in economy,
but when the curtains part I get
a glimpse of powder on the backs
of the seats of the upper classes,
and a cabin attendant who looks like
Jimmy Stewart passes out checks
to hands that rise from the seats
like the necks of swans
on a private lake.


Ian Willey has a degree in Communications with a minor in Silence.


 

Ian Willey

Empty Nest

When they razed the field to make space
for the last of the houses the killdeer no longer
had any place to make their nests so they left,
all but one, who somehow got into the blood
of the woman living alone at the top of the hill,
which is why you can see her from time to time
dragging one wing on the lawn and screeching
“I’m here, I’m here” as the cars come home
early in the evening.


Ian Willey has a degree in Communications with a minor in Silence.


 

Pushcart Nominee 2019

Ian Willey

The End

If the sun were suddenly to explode we’d have eight minutes
and twenty seconds before the shockwave reached earth
to annihilate everything, meaning there wouldn’t be enough
time to listen to “The End” by The Doors, though you could
play R.E.M.’s “It’s the End of the World as I Know It
(And I Feel Fine)” twice and still have twelve seconds left,
assuming you could tell exactly when the sun exploded
and press play right then, and you were awake,
with some time on your hands, and felt fine.


My name is Ian Willey and I approve of this poem.

Ian Willey

Awakening

Not having watered the tomatoes for weeks
it was a surprise to find on the vine, basking
in an autumn sunrise, a pair of tomatoes, pale
and sunken like the breasts of an old widow,
who awakes one chilly October morning
and realizes now is the time.


My name is Ian Willey and I approve of this poem.

Ian Willey

The End

If the sun were suddenly to explode we’d have eight minutes
and twenty seconds before the shockwave reached earth
to annihilate everything, meaning there wouldn’t be enough
time to listen to “The End” by The Doors, though you could
play R.E.M.’s “It’s the End of the World as I Know It
(And I Feel Fine)” twice and still have twelve seconds left,
assuming you could tell exactly when the sun exploded
and press play right then, and you were awake,
with some time on your hands, and felt fine.


My name is Ian Willey and I approve of this poem.

Ian Willey

We Pretend

When she returns to the table having rushed off
for an emergency breast pumping, we pretend not
to notice the spot on her blouse and she pretends
not to notice our pretending not to notice and in
this way we get back to our prescribed agenda
while the spot, barely there to begin with, enters
the atmosphere of this climate-controlled room
with wood-paneled walls and a fantastic view
of the mountains though we try to keep our eyes
on the screen pretending this isn’t a struggle.


Ian Willey hails from Hartville, Ohio. Someone has to.


 

Ian Willey

Knowing That

You stand by the river knowing that the birds
flying overhead are people you once knew,
that they will never come this way again,
that the formation holding them together is a trick
of the eye, that there’s nothing you can do about
the gunshots rising from the reeds along the bank,
about the bursts of feathers and bodies whistling
as they plummet to earth, that without the hunters
the birds would take up every square inch of sky
and you’d never be able to see the moon,
that there’s no reason for you to feel sad
or envy the ones who manage to move on.


Ian Willey is an Ohioan living in the countryside of Japan, where he teaches, writes, and helicopter-parents.


 

Ian Willey

Middle Age

When we got married
I vowed I would not become
furniture in your home

yet here I am now
sitting around
a bit threadbare
and fading.


Ian Willey, originally from Akron, Ohio, resides in the Inland Sea area of Japan where he teaches, does research, and writes.