Recent Work By Howie Good

Half-Life

By Howie Good

Poem

1
One
moment
he was

leaning
on a wall.
The next

he was
wondering
why

a wall,
and not

a tree.

2
He always introduced her
only by her first name.

Similarly, in the park,
she received shy glances

from the statues
of lesser known heroes.

3
Is suicide a solution?
inquired the fly,
goose-stepping
through the burning ruins
of a French village.

4
He used a camera
like a typewriter,
the page in front of him
covered with blood.

5
They fell asleep side by side
on a bed of curled pencil shavings.
For long moments at a time,
the bicycle wheel ceased to stammer.

6
You see her sometimes
on the boulevard

of strip malls
and chain motels

dressed all in black
like a crow

or a sad country.

7
The troops burst from the trenches.
The audience applauded,
her last name of no concern to anyone.