corporate greed poems

The blinds are closed, the doors locked, blocked,
lights are out, they huddle in the corner, for once
literally hiding in the classroom, they talk quietly,

get their phones out, text their parents, their friends,
each other, post to Facebook; there’s nothing new
about it, they’ve planned for it, practiced this, but

this time it could be serious – this is not a drill.
From across the street, from his angle, TV news
gets it all, the deserted feel of it, a few police cars

around, some movement now and again; it’s spring,
it’s quiet where there should be voices and noise,
a few sneaking around the way students their age do,

but now it’s silent, like Rachel Carson’s silent spring,
pesticide poisons our place, our air with this, we have
taught them to hide and wait quietly for the all clear bell,

the end of school and what they learned about today.