School Shooters
They
were there, even in my day, wandering the halls
Like
the rest of us, shadowy figures, familiar to us all;
We’d
see them out of the corner of our eye, go by,
Through
the glass panel in our classroom door we’d
See
them looking in, watching us, picking out targets;
They
were sufficiently armed, carefully groomed to
Cover
their intentions, weapons cleverly concealed
Almost
unnoticeable, except we knew they were
There;
the day of judgment was coming, the day of
Reckoning
was at hand; we didn’t have a plan, no
Evacuation
to set in motion, no lock-down, no way
To
notify parents or the press, we didn’t have a prayer;
They
were there among us the whole time, ready to
Settle
scores, even the playing field, set things right,
They
were avenging angels, revolutionaries ready to
Move,
ready to light the fuse to a whole new way
Of
living, a way of living we have come to know well,
Our
past catches up with our children and grandchildren,
Shadowy
figures step forward, aim, and now fire.
After the Lifeboat Drill
After
the lifeboat drill, our names tucked in,
Electronically
stowed, safe from the eventual
Real
and imagined dangers, we take our first
Cautious
turns around the promenade deck
Starboard
and then port, measure our walk
As
if we could get away from this distance
We
take with us. We jog, we walk, push
Strollers
and wheelchairs, follow service dogs,
Pair
off to pace, to chat, to look at horizons.
Signs
tell us to mind our head and to watch,
At
the same time, our step, as if these bits of
Confucius-like
wisdom could help guide us,
Protect
us from our child-like approach to
Entering
or exiting or just getting us along.
After
the lifeboat drill, the ocean changes
Its
face, becomes a bit darker, a presence
We
need to adjust to; its influence, the way
It
can sway, play with our steps, our balance
Reminds
us of its strength, of why we need
These
lifeboats drills before we set out.
Writer’s Block
The
day twitches, itches
Middle
of its back
Twists,
turns, writhes
Almost
reaches
The
clock sluggishly
Solemnly
speaks
Mentions
misgivings
Times
misspent
Phone
and doorbell
Look
on quietly
Expect
nothing
Minds
wandering
Radio
forgets its place
The
words floating
Floating
through space
Repeating,
repeating
The
breeze blows
The
curtains apart
Almost
a tune
Almost
a sigh
Outside
a bird sings
Dog
barks, bird barks
Scratches
at the door
Flutters
away
The
cursor impatiently
Winks,
flashes, warns
Warms
to the task
And
then, and then, and
In
this circle of hell
We
wend our way
Wondering
what went
And
where it might
Have
gone
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