The evening light always
seems to me peculiarly sad.
My heart holds its hands
out toward the fire.
I visit the doctor,
afraid to upset the silence
following upon the collapse
of the great newspapers.
He decides to give me a shot.
He says it’s to numb me.
It doesn’t. Although spring,
I can see the system of roads
built to carry away the dead.
more on Howie…
Howie Good, a journalism professor at the State University
of New York at New Paltz, is the author of eight poetry
chapbooks. He has been nominated three times for a
Pushcart Prize and twice for the Best of the Net
anthology. His first full-length poetry book, Lovesick,
will be published this summer by The Poetry Press.
More about Howie on his blog: here