What Rough Beat | Poem for July 11, 2018

Walter Holland
Taking Cover

Told to sit with legs crossed,
hands over eyes and faces
lowered, under the class-
room desks, while
the teacher drew the blinds and
ordered us to stay still, remain
quiet, and brace for the fury.
Our class of nine-year olds sat
frozen on the waxed linoleum floor
having watched a house
and porch pull apart, walls and
roof fly off and the blinding flash
of light, then test dummies shatter,
a hail of boards, pipes and shards—
the melted face of a watch,
and imbedded human
shadows. We were read a check-
list for fallout shelters,
listened to a soldier
talk of American might,
and our righteous fight to protect
freedom. Now I watch children on TV
build barricades made from over-
turned desks and take up tiny pencils
as weapons to ward off
“armed intruders” and next
week’s lesson will be on what
to do if teacher’s no longer
there: “Stand Your Ground,”
“Pack and Carry,” the enemy’s
the press, and immigrants
are rapists, thieves and vermin—
threats to your future picking
grapes, or working as
a bagger at a sub-
minimum
hourly wage.

 

 

Walter Holland, PhD, is the author of three books of poetry: A Journal of the Plague Years: Poems 1979-1992 (Magic City Press, 1992), Transatlantic (Painted Leaf Press, 2001), and Circuit(Chelsea Station Editions, 2010) as well as a novel, The March (Masquerade Books, 1996 and Chelsea Station Editions 2011). His work has appeared in The Antioch Review, HazMat, Redivider, Rhino, and other journals and anthologies. He writes book reviews for LambdaLiterary.org and Pleiades. Follow him at: walterhollandwriter.com.

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