Poem by Cathy Porter
ARE WE GREAT YET?
My neighbor’s dog jumped his fence
the other day and took off running.
Across the city, on the west side,
the neighbors are shocked that a string
of cars have been broken into:
“This just doesn’t happen here!”
These winter months bring out
the cold in too many hearts. Sends people
to the streets in acts of desperation.
Sara and Scott were kicked out of the bar
for pissing in each other’s drinks.
Just like the government.
They still haven’t found my neighbor’s dog.
He was last seen trying to jump over
a higher fence down the road –
probably to get inside a warm house
for a bite to eat.
I don’t know his name, but it doesn’t matter –
nothing does, when you’re scared and hungry.
The poem first appeared it first appeared in Trajectory.
Cathy Porter’s poetry has appeared in Plainsongs, Homestead Review, California Quarterly, Hubbub, Cottonwood, Comstock Review, and various other journals. She has two chapbooks available from Finishing Line Press: A Life In The Day (2012), and Dust And Angels (2014), as well as two chapbooks published by Dancing Girl Press in Chicago: Exit Songs (2016), and 16 Days (2019). Her latest collection, The Skin Of Uncertainty, is now available from Maverick Duck Press. Cathy is a two-time Pushcart Prize nominee, and serves as a special editor for the journal Fine Lines in Omaha, NE, where she lives with her husband Lenny and their dog Marley, and cats Cody and Mini.
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Now more than ever
These poems have been submitted to the call for poetry "Now more than ever"