2 Poems by Howie Good


The crowded
elevator disappears
between floors.
stand weeping
at the crosswalk.
She still loves you,
says the old man
walking a dog on a rope.
I smell the salt
of the nearby tears.
It takes two
or three matches
before the light
stays lit.

Remember the Alamo! (photo by Flickr user etgeek)


The farts of a hopped-up Mustang echo down the street. Sam
Houston could use a shot of mescal right about now. His hand
trembles like a courier with urgent news. He doesn’t wish to
discuss anymore the imposed simplicity of his early work. Agents
in belted raincoats watch the border from nearby doorways.
Although the sun is out, the nine-spotted ladybug crosses

Howie Good is the author of a full-length poetry collection, Lovesick, and 21 print and digital poetry chapbooks. With Dale Wisely, he is the co-founder of White Knuckle Press.