Howie Good

Police and Questions

The Vicissitudes

Some days I just wake up sad
as if a crow has been at the window

watching me sleep.

Or because the blade of the gravedigger’s
shovel rang all night against rock.

Now the landlady blocks the stairs
with large and tragic gestures,

demanding to know is it true
there’s a difference, however empty,

between recant and regret.

So many questions, and the only answer
the torn envelope dawn came in.