Iowa Writes

Mid-flight, Mid-west, Mid-drought

The husks of corn will wave their arms
And thus I'll know I'm home.
In lieu of you, there's fields of farms
Which feel as warm as Nome.

We stole a cab to dives to drink
And you forgot to sleep.
But now the stars all seem to shrink
And tides return to neap.

The sun will rest upon your face
Before it sets on mine.
For you my hope's despair displaced
While I'm in three one nine.

With all your jokes I just can't get,
The words I mispronounce.
I claustrophobe, I stink, I sweat
— But you is all that counts.

                  September 28, 2012

About Iowa Writes

Since 2006, Iowa Writes has featured the work of Iowa-identified writers (whether they have Iowa roots or live here now) and work published by Iowa journals and publishers on The Daily Palette. Iowa Writes features poetry, fiction, or nonfiction twice a week on the Palette.

In November of 2008, the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) designated Iowa City, Iowa, the world's third City of Literature, making the community part of the UNESCO Creative Cities Network.

Iowa City has joined Edinburgh, Scotland and Melbourne, Australia as UNESCO Cities of Literature.

Find out more about submitting by contacting


A.J. Hunter lives, writes, and practices playing the piano drunk in Iowa City.

This page was first displayed
on April 16, 2013

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