The Horn Blows at Midnight
by Howie Good
Beckmann, half his face left unfinished,
sitting in a sun-flooded room with a little cat,
grimly eyeing a trumpet he holds
as if wondering whether to sound it.
But that was years ago.
The toot came out nice and round.
Strange black flowers painted
on the sky by bursting ack-ack.
Tonight I will try again for the music.
Name a capital of a country.
Change the first letter to name
a familiar musical instrument.
Example: Lima = limp, limb, lime
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Howie Good’s latest book of poetry collection is The Complete Absence of Twilight (2014) from MadHat Press. He co-edits White Knuckle Press with Dale Wisely, who does most of the real work.
