The Fictitious Glow of Distant Stars • Howie Good

We enter
the castle together,
& all autumn
& into winter
your mouth
is a garden

covered with lions
& strutting
tuba players,

& that’s why
festival lights
go on in the villages
& end times
lie just beyond
our hearing,

long & dark
& giggling


Howie needs no introduction to RBR readers.