January 7, 2010

MISANTHROPY

by Howie Good

Birds scuff for dark crumbs
under the sidewalk tables.

A police spy in the corner
notes the time. Everywhere

there are sons of bitches.
In a dingy rooming house

boarders come and go unseen
except for the burnt matches

they drop in the hall.

2 comments:

Crafty Green Poet said...

excellent poem, as is always the case from Howie Good

Tasha_Klein said...

i'd cut the last line.

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