Spring 2015
What Good At All
BY BOB ZORDANI
What good at all am I when Heidi’s legs
have given out and our boy Prefontaine
has died of cancer on the coast of Maine
and every whiff of air I’ve forced myself
to steal has scorched my lungs and made me beg
for mercy on this April afternoon
where all around me wends the wicked stench
of spring escaping from its bleak cocoon?
previously published in Measure