Excerpts from
Jolly
'Twas the night before Christmas
and Santa fell flat on his face.
My neighbor's inflated Santa lost—
I don't know…his bowl full of jelly.
...
Staked like a downed tent,
he ripples in the wind,
gestures with one red glove.
...
Punctured, we flap on,
skeptical but not unkind.
© Lynna Howard, 2007, all rights reserved
Excerpts from
December Song
Walk by the gray river
listening to the doomed affair
of Violetta and Alfredo
on the radio.
...
A brass section of ducks
takes the air,
marking the current—
a great claw of torn water
...
Taloned hawks, late for a trip
to winter in Argentina,
carve a sharp C in air.
Desultory hunters,
bibbed in black, formal,
silent—but a chord is struck
below the threshold of hearing
by the shape of their drop
from limb to shore.
...
© Lynna Howard, 2000, all rights reserved
