Things were falling down.
I screamed into the house,
“Get out of the house!”
I threw the door away from me
and began to crawl through this mess.
It’s a horrible way to search.
I cannot go back. I saw too much.
There were bits of screws
sticking out their heads.
It’s the whole Earth – it’s every plant.
Children were torn into pieces.
It sounded like gunfire going off, through the trees.
I don’t even really know what it means.
I feel lost now.
It’s not what you play on the notes,
it’s what you do in the silences.
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Howie Good, a journalism professor at SUNY New Paltz, is the author of more than two dozen chapbooks and several full-length poetry collections. His poetry has been honored with nomination for the Pushcart Prize and the Best of Net anthology multiple times. He co-edits White Knuckle Press with Dale Wisely.
