Willow Won’t You Weep by Howie Good

In a place like this, somewhere between a ’80s video game and the future, I might have easily become the sort of person who wears sunglasses when there’s no sun out. A massive room was building itself brick by brick around you. As soon as I entered, crowds began creeping in at the corners. I kept asking if it were true that the Nazis had had a secret project to build shelters for top leaders in the event of defeat – inaccessible sites in the middle of deserts or on a cliff. No one bothered to answer. Instead, faces wobbled in and out of focus. And that wasn’t even the worst part. A willow that vandals had stripped the bark off was still dying.

Howie Good's latest poetry collections include Fugitive Pieces from Right Hand Pointing Press and The Cruel Radiance of What Is from Another New Calligraphy.