The Shadows of October


A brown halo of smoke hangs over the town. I count what
look like bullet holes in the wall. The birds just want to
go back to sleep. I follow the fat blonde up the stairs.
Use gentle strokes with a sharp razor, she says. I try to
remember the name of that song I used to sing. It helps
the time go faster.


I stamp my feet for warmth. A girl with the blank eyes of
a statue chews on a toothpick. No one at the bus stop
knows why there are sirens. Birds, desperately short of
breath, churn the sky into the chromium yellow of autumn.
The gods must be working another double shift. I pick up a
stone and put it in my pocket just in case.


Hello, all. Does anyone have a two-drawer metal file
cabinet they don’t need, light shining off every surface?

Howie Good is the author of the full-length poetry collections Lovesick (Press Americana, 2009) and Heart With a Dirty Windshield (BeWrite Books, 2010), as well as 22 print and digital poetry chapbooks.

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1 Response to The Shadows of October

  1. Jeffrey says:

    I enjoy the images and the worlds that you paint with words in your poems. I like the slice of life that you give us and the worlds that you share with us.

    Thanks for another good read Howie.

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