Dance of the Iron Shoes, poems by Howie Good
DANCE OF THE IRON SHOES
The stairs creaked under his weight. He was carrying a small black satchel. My mother kept herself busy elsewhere in the house. When I lifted my head off the pillow, I could hear other children playing on the sidewalk. He suddenly filled the doorway of my bedroom. How you doing? he said. Sunlight clanged against the window. Flies crawled around inside my mouth. It was often like this back then, the sky brightening just enough for me to see what wasn’t there.
ON FIRST LOOKING INTO NERUDA’S *TWENTY LOVE POEMS*
I was only 14
and didn’t know
what you meant.
You meant
how it blooms
hatless and in all
shades of green
and without ever
saying please.
___________________________________________
Howie Good, a journalism professor at the State University
of New York at New Paltz, is the author of 18 poetry
chapbooks and a full-length book of poetry, Lovesick
(2009). He has been nominated multiple times for a
Pushcart Prize the Best of the Net anthology.
© 2010, Metazen. All rights reserved.
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