Literary Fiction poem

Aztec

By Jude-Marie Green
Aug 7, 2020 · 122 words · 1 minute

Lockers

Photo by Joshua Hoehne via Unsplash.

From the author: An unpublished poem. Not genre. Topical.


Who died? they asked

When they mean who was killed?

And her mother cried

And his mother cried.

Just a little blood, a small mess, easy to clean.

Not like tv.

And his father clenched his fists

In helplessness.

Our thoughts and prayers are with you.

No, really, what do you want us to do?

Raze the building, sow the ground with salt?

We can do nothing else.

But you can have this casket

At half price.

A bargain, a steal, a discount for the students

Because the students died

And the teachers.

The children and teenagers and adults

And gunmen, they died.

Sales are brisk, caskets and guns,

The mortuaries and NRA dressed in black.

Though green is their favorite color.