I was robbed of my youth. In my youth
I was mugged while my father watched, watched
us get shot
out of the chapel (as it were) by a canon.
(gathered on the hill) muttered sheepish prayers;
now they say they want to arm the teachers—
maybe pay them
extra, give them bonuses for our salvation.
In God We Trust
bandoliered like graffiti in Florida
school cafeterias—a reminder to trust
He who does not trust us.
Thoughts and prayers enjamb
our country until another tragedy demands
their undivided attention— history
is a living echo (the sound of gunshot now)
deafening our peaceful, golden prairies
(the pen is mightier than the assault weapon,
but blood stains
in English classrooms
reject our holy aphorism).
So we politely ask
if something may be done;
So our leaders politely ask our God
If maybe he could, please, save our children,
when maybe he ain’t so busy
with all His blessing of America?