Marking Time by Howie Good

Almost the first thing I do in the morning
is take a bunch of pills, usually with my coffee,
but sometimes with the sordid remains
of a glass of wine from the night before.
Back in the fall, I had cancer surgery,
followed by thirty sessions of radiation.
My skin cracked and peeled like old paint
and my bones turned strangely rubbery.
Now every three months I must drive
into Boston from the South Shore
for a precautionary CAT scan of my chest
and abdomen. Parking is impossible.
The hospital buildings are topped
by coils of razor wire. And I’m still dying.



Howie Good co-edits the online journal UnLost, dedicated to found poetry.