Psalms of the Wisconsin Dells
Our car’s gone! She says to herself
but loud enough for our double room.
Forehead to the glass, the sun slants
through the window, longing
for a place where souls commune.
Yep, it’s gone, she notes, to project,
enunciate. I rush over as though a child
wandered onto the highway.
In the mirror dad lathers his face
with a towel around his waist, a routine
unbroken from another office day.
Last night a rowdy camper pulled in,
a wayward moth trapped by the vacancy sign,
and parked in the lot near our van.
After the theft, I imagine what I’d miss.
My lego set forever incomplete, the TV
news relentless. Even with a crucifix
round her neck she didn’t peek
at the bedside Bible where Psalms asks
How long will you turn my glory into shame?
The window’s shot open by an engine’s crank,
and the camper chugs to life before leeching
Onto the tourist highway, revealing
our van was there all along.
Dad finishes his shave and almost remembers
not to unite socks with his leather thongs.
About the Author: Aaron was a finalist for the 2026 POPP Award from North Dakota State University and has served as poetry editor for Drunk Monkeys. His poems have been accepted at Midwest Quarterly, Slipstream, and Museum of Americana. His first full-length collection is forthcoming from Luchador Press. aarondwiegert.com
Image Credit: John Margolies “Dells Ducks, Lake Delton, Wisconsin” (1988) Public domain image courtesy of the Library of Congress
As It Ought To Be 