poem: monday mourning
monday mourning
Leah won’t stop talking.
No one hushes her in fear that he’ll hear.
We can hear him pacing and mocking.
He knows the drill, lights out means we’re here.
Huddled up in the corner.
Next to a stranger I’ve known my whole life.
Awkward proximity makes us warmer.
Across the room, Joe prays for his life.
Sirens shake the school.
As he flees the scene.
Doors fly open. Run.
Turns out headlines are just as cruel.
Safe at home, I turn on channel 618.
The attack has just begun
a photo by Isabel Tiburcio
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