
Inside the classroom, the air is descending
The clock is ticking in countdown
It’s just a drill today, the intercom blasts
LOCKDOWN, LOCKDOWN!
I walk briskly to the desk
Snatching up the keyboard
Looking for the key underneath
Where’s the key?
“Are we gonna die, Miss?”
“Of course not!” I snap, letting calmer air fill my calamity
Pushing the tragedy away
“You don’t have a key???”
They ask incredulously
I want to breathe up all the air in the world
A breath of prayer into my angel grandmother’s ear
One thousand and two times
I have mind-played this scene
Lock the door, shutter it with a bookcase or desks
How many desks?
I would drag them with superhuman strength
Straight across the white tiles
Shutting the mouth of rage
Outside the door
Barricade it with desks
Their plastic chairs shine the meaning
Of life itself
Even after the lights go out
The desk alter would be built
The sacrificial lambs huddle on the floor
Away from open windows
And a roamer with 42 rounds
Runs down tomb-sentenced halls
We ain’t gonna die today! I want to scream
“I volunteer Adriana as tribute –” a girl snickers in the corner
“They went to school too, they know where we hide!” another advises me
“Miss!!”
The buzzer rings
The drill is done
My fumbling fingers have gone numb
We are free to climb the exhilarating air
Our feet already on the rungs of infinity
Climbing, climbing up to kinder gods
About the Creator
Lana Broussard
Lana Broussard writes primarily under the pen name, L.T. Garvin. She writes fiction, poetry, essays, and humor. She is the author of Confessions of a 4th Grade Athlete, Animals Galore, The Snjords, and Dancing with the Sandman.



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