I stare down at the clouds in a puddle. I’m thinking it’s easier to buy a gun around here than find a job. Darlene says her name means “little darling.” A cold gray light falls across her face, the last task of evening. I can’t remember what it was I did when this happened before. Mine must mean something, too, I say. The trees shake their shaggy heads as if they disagree. I’m glad a canine can be a dog or tooth. I’m hoping it is whichever I say it is.
Howie Good, a journalism professor at State University of New York at New Paltz, is the author of the new poetry collection, Dreaming in Red, from Right Hand Pointing. All proceeds from the sale of the book go to a crisis center, which you can read about here: https://sites.google.com/site/rhplanding/howie-good-dreaming-in-red.
His chapbook, The Devil’s Fuzzy Slippers, has just been published by Flutter Press.
© 2012 Howie Good