Cursive
A declaration from the district office
we will not be teaching cursive this year
no pens will be required, no extra paper
we will not be teaching cursive this year.
No sweeping strokes above and below the line,
no repeated and repeated letters
wide mouthed o’s, tall t’s, obstinate q’s
to not worry about the slant,
we will not be teaching cursive this year.
The Phone Calls
Forty-year-old woman
wearing a conservative grey business suit
in her newly washed SUV
driving forty miles an hour
down a city street
talking to her business partner,
phone against her ear.
Thirteen-year-old boy
wearing blue jeans and a plaid shirt
carrying a black backpack
jostling and joking with friends
walking home from school
they enter the crosswalk.
The boy is
thrown twenty feet
landing on his sweet, young face
bleeding into a puddle
his friend calls 911
Seventy-two-year-old grandmother
wearing two layers of clothing
on this cold, damp winter day
waits expectantly for
her grandson.
He is late returning from school;
at 4:30 she calls the school.
He is not there.
Thirty-three-year-old mother
wearing brown slacks and a white blouse
sitting in her office working at her computer.
Her phone flashes and vibrates, a number
she does not recognized.
Mother and grandmother, sitting quietly in the waiting room
reserved for family. They hold hands and pray.
The driver of the SUV, charged with reckless driving
sits in a cell waiting for the call.
Will she be charged
with manslaughter?
Death Can’t Stop the Rap
Death can’t stop the rap
reverse the beat
absorb the heat
chance defeat
Death can’t stop the rap
gangs still meet
memories keep
dreams retreat
Death can’t stop the rap
concrete street
guns repeat
bloodied feet
Death can’t stop the rap
souls entreat
bleat like sheep
life so fleet
Death can’t stop the rap
beneath the sheet
bodies sleep
brothers weep
Death
can’t stop
the rap.