Two Poems • Howie Good

Dying Sunflower

The 7-foot-tall yellow flower,
it’s going to disappear,
wearing a stoical expression
& refusing all offers of help.
It sounds complicated but it’s simple,
a totally useless operation,
painful, tedious, & lonely,
the exact opposite of fucking up
over & over again.


Rocket to Pluto

Something happened, maybe,
a man firing blindly into a crowd,
or a young black woman
from up North found hanged
in a jail cell after breakfast,

that sort of thing, a rocket to Pluto,
something I didn’t actually see,
even though I have a window
in my office and it’s midday,
and clear, like the color of tears.