Wednesday, January 7, 2009

The Daughters of Man


I'm high up on a ladder that's noisily being circled
by ravens and crows. Somewhere below, my daughters

have exchanged names. I call to the younger one,
but the older one answers. I should've known this is

what happens when you marry late. They laugh
at my confusion and then head off though the trees.

It isn't that they don't love me; it's just that
they love other things more. I begin to climb down.

I'm halfway to the ground before I ever notice
the man in the skeleton mask pacing at the bottom.

by Howard Good

1 comment:

The Bijou Poetry Review said...

Howie Good, a journalism professor at the State University
of New York at New Paltz, is the author of six poetry
chapbooks, most recently Tomorrowland (2008) from Achilles
Chapbooks. He has been nominated three times for a
Pushcart Prize and twice for the Best of the Net
anthology.

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