Jody Azzouni


Perhaps as many as thirty

Originally published in Artful Dodge 32/33, 1998
Added 11/11/2019
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Perhaps as many as thirty

Poem | Jody's Notes


Dumb as a nail, I look out the window,

watching the dead snow gather in piles.

They point flashlights into his living-room

floor; the broken parquet slumps around

a vulnerable hole, the dark a shadow

blanketing its kill. “Paydirt,”

one says. I see an arm

in a plastic bag, other bags

beneath it.


They take me out of the building. One

holds my hands, a small gift of flesh,

and tells me I’m safe. I gaze at his badge

and like a lamp it fills with light.


There is a box in my future now

and I’ll be there

if I ever shut my eyes again.