Repeated History

Issue FourPoetry

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By Jordan King-Lacroix


The clouds, ha! The clouds!

Did you see them when they passed overhead?


So slow, like molasses, seeping across the sky,

the blue shattering to orange as the sun set.


A jetliner, like the one you took, flew straight through them,

going into their nothingness, so high that it disappeared.


It looked like a missile,

angry and moving away from this land as fast as it could,


the sky around it like fire, the light hitting it just right,

so that it shined.


The wind blew, then, as I stared up,

rustling the leaves across the dirt road,


small waves of dust moving like an ocean

across the earth.


We were penned in, for now,

waiting until the word came down,


the word that would go on the page that would set us free,

but we can see we’ll be waiting a long time.


A bell rings behind me,

the time outside is over for us today,


back into the dark, where we cram together and pray

that tomorrow will bring something better,


or not come at all.