In the Black and White World by Marianne Szlyk

The last owl hoots, the last
coyote howls, someone’s

lost cat cannot help but
squeak.  This blackened tree,
a clean tooth, juts out at
the sky.  Branches are smoke,
are ash, dangling, blacker
than sky at city’s edge.
Bugs trill and click; moonlight
glistens the far foothills
soon to be someone’s home
but now as empty as
a picture drawn in chalk.

Marianne Szlyk is a professor at Montgomery College. Her poems have also appeared in of/with, bird's thumb, Bourgeon, and Nixes' Mate. Her books include I Dream of Empathy and On the Other Side of the Window.  Recently, she and her husband were part of Pony One Dog Press' reading at the New York City Poetry Festival.  Pony One Dog Press will be publishing her next book, Poetry in Plein-Air, soon.