shooting aftermath:
AP testing in mid-June
for suburbanites

the gun’s reach has wrath
stretching fifteen miles south
of where my home is

they shuffle in, grin;
calculators, pens ready
for a number game

but they’re missing one,
his seat echoed in “thank-yous”
as they shuffle out

they are just children
trying to grow up and catch
the world’s beauty

my tires spin home,
the grey ponds reflecting love
i cannot give them