“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.
