From above, the desk has a home
in a row of identical desks,
an old high school yearbook rests in the middle,
and a mechanical pencil.
...
Read full text
This little piece of history is a detailed observation of frightening days. Rather than getting caught in the emotion, you chose to focus on the details, the desks, the yearbook, the children more ready for games than the serious preparation into which they were forced. Your closing stanza, bringing in Fidel Castro, the Stones, the Kennedys brought it all together...'The Lost Poems of Fidel Castro.' Loved the title. Raynette
Gawd, it's good to see you here again. I've always loved your work. I too remember the 'duck and cover' exercises...thankfully our kids don't, huh? And hopefully, they never will. I love the way this moves, Michael...softly, urgently. Thanks for sharing.
How perfectly I remember being under the desk, not knowing whether to be afraid of the 'bombs' or excited about the release from the regular classwork, and how well you have brought back this memory...the things that we think we have forgotten until something (or someone!) triggers the memory for us. Welcome back.
Echoic, haunting, and leaving this reader hungry for more...
I really like how this poem reveals itself, and its place in history. -chuck