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2 poems by Howie Good

6/21/2013

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Picture
Ramshackle Glory
Where's The Party?

The directions to the engagement party said 
head west on Excelsior, take the third right onto Maple, 
and continue to Greenfield. 

No mention at all of swayback cows staring out 
from behind barbed wire. Or such wind! 
Like the mistaken zeal of Socrates’ executioners. 

High up, a hawk aerobicized. Unless it was a crow. 

Love itself was a kind of sweet tumult, 
swigging Robitussin and wearing only one shoe.

Damage Control

It could’ve been the cat. 
It could’ve been a woodchuck 
the cat was chasing. 

There aren’t any signed confessions 
or calls of apology. 

Remember phone cards?
Pretty soon no one will. 

I gather up all that’s bent
or broken in the garden 
into a kind of bouquet 
and toss it in the garbage. 

Some flowers are just better 
than other flowers for cutting.
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