Howie Good
If we’re the sum,
as some say,
of everything previous,
why even now
we’re still climbing
the tower of bones,
mounting the twisting
staircase in silence
and then in millions,
while the duke of Auschwitz
and his lady go riding
on pale horses
under a peasant moon,
and angels with flight feathers
like long black pennants
forget what it was
they were sent to do.
Visiting the Dead
Howie Good
The gates close at 5 p.m.
It was barely noon, but already hot.
I called her name. Here, she said
and stepped out into the road.
The sun went behind a cloud.
I clicked the dead flashlight over
and over as if this time it might work.
© 2009 Howie Good. All rights reserved.
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About the Author
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 Netanthology. His first full-length book of poetry, Lovesick, is forthcoming from The Poetry Press of Press Americana.