Poetry Feature: Schools Out – Elliot Brady

“School’s Out”

By Elliot Brady

Underneath the awning that stretches

toward pine boughs, you glide through

the zoetrope in your mind as aquamarine

jelly squares beg for cannonballs.

Two mourning doves visit as dawn’s

ambassadors singing the stories of their

province over trucks yawning distant

dragon roars. There was a shooting

in America yesterday at the high school

you are assigned to. We were created

to work in this garden where I keep you,

where summer is kneeling to autumn’s

vapor. I picture our conversations in

spherical time as cicadas sing along

the tree line. The pool is our space

station and we are baptized in our

weightlessness as astronauts that must

return home to questions of property

values. Shame. Clouds hide scarlet

sunlight behind their bellies west over

the high school you will go to if we

stay in this neighborhood. A whole

afternoon slides away in moments. The

sky aches as ash stains its corners, just

as you’ll ache tonight when a deep sleep

falls upon you.

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