Failed HaikuThe white daffodil with curly yellow lips in a crystal bud vase Salvador Dali sitting up in his deathbed cursing a priest who has come to visit him ‘No Animals Were Harmed. . .’Everywhere, chemicals. My house might as well be made of words for all the protection it affords. The previous tenant not only drank from the toilet, but also scrawled on the walls a disclaimer: “No animals were harmed in the making of this film.” I wasn’t laughing when my MRI came back showing frizzy orange hair and a painted frown. Since then, I have been insulating with crumpled newspaper. In this wind, faces have been eroded, lives uprooted and swept away. Apparently only grandmas with heavy bosoms have adequate ballast to keep to their feet. Complicated Shadows“Someday you’ll thank me,” my mother would say after she had cracked me across the face for yet another meaningless infraction. Someday wasn’t today. Today my tongue was too busy exploring the shimmery slit down there. I can still taste you, a taste like the cold and wet ashes of hallelujahs. Howie Good is the author most recently of the poetry collections Gunmetal Sky (Thirty West Publishing) and Famous Long Ago (Laughing Ronin Press).
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