Elementary Classes
by John C. Mannone
I was
looking for a bus, train, or a plane
to take
a picture
of for a basic photography class
when
a row
of buses popped into view as in a photo-
shoot for a magazine cover, glossy in the after
rain,
gleaming
lead-chromate-yellow; parked on asphalt
puddles reflecting the end of the day—fire red sky
from a setting sun; wisps of steamy mist hovering.
It’s
summer, but some kids won’t be
swimming
or
picnicking. But no more bullies, or
homework,
no
more detention, or recess, no more
teachers
or
overprotective parents. These children
were
sadly
expelled from their classrooms
because
of
gunmen-boys who cut them short, too
short
to
ever reach the school bus steps again.
Now,
the
gray-green leather seats remain empty
but
for the quiet ghosts of children
resting
in
the liminal shadows.
In memory of the children lost to gun
violence at Sandy Hook, Rancho Tehama,
Robb Elementary schools, and many others since
Columbine.
John
C. Mannone has poems in Windhover, North
Dakota Quarterly, Poetry South, Baltimore
Review, and others. Winner/Nominee of numerous
contests/awards, John edits poetry for Abyss
& Apex and other journals. He’s a physics and chemistry professor at
Alice lloyd College in Kentucky.
http://jcmannone.wordpress.com
https://www.facebook.com/jcmannone/
