Sue Goyette’s poem Future Howl plots a fulsome radius of the experience of trauma and survival, one that encompasses much about living in the aftermath that skirts straightforward description and yet works in the frequency of courage and joy. Propelled by Goyette’s declarative voice, sense of humour and side-slipping imagery, each page of the poem is “a microdose of ars poetica” infused with intertextual and transformative guidance from the painter Bob Ross, the live-cam company of a pair of endangered red wolves, and a private-to-public reckoning that is grounded in this singular time.