Howler Monkey
The other two were cracked,
Their braincase burst by slips of steel,
So those I didn’t buy. But you, your skull
Is still intact,
A smooth confection, done
In by a dart to your lax breast.
You know, you sometimes howl, hurl megahertz.
A homesick phantom.
Yes, I hear your moan
At night; the echo of yourself
Unfolds across your glass case, the quiet roofs
Of the whole town.
Matthew Dobson is a teacher in Hong Kong. He tries to write every day, and loves nature.