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Mary Carroll Poem
Did you think you were cool?
to call in a threat?
You Columbine copy-cat,
you coward, you fool?
Teachers hear the “code,”
Teachers who’ve been trained to
hope for the best
prepare for the worst,
the worst that could possibly happen
at this
or any
school
Students thought it strange,
didn’t get the news,
saw my fast moves,
the blinds drawn
door locked
hands that shook
the lights off
“In the corner, NOW!”
I pointed, afraid
that life or death,
my own,
my students’
hung in the air
I’m not the self-sacrificing sort,
or so I thought,
wedged between my students
and the door,
the worry-wart,
the mother hen,
knowing I would hurl
myself
at the gunman,
at the trenchcoat,
so that
younger
faster
bodies could escape.
Still, I hoped,
some
of
the boys
would
join
me.
“Fight or Flee, do SOMETHING,”
the mantra learned at
Virginia Tech,
the lesson learned
the hard way.
Teen bodies sweat, now,
the smell of fear,
the floor hard, so cold,
the dark,
afraid to whisper,
we listen for sounds
footsteps,
whispers,
gunshots, anything,
outside that door.
Nobody knows…
“What’s going on?”
Chairs scrape upstairs:
“Fools!” I think, half hope the noise
draws the gunman
away from here,
but that I’m wrong,
it’s a scare,
all at once.
Hunger now,
stomachs growl,
it’s schools end,
we’re finally fed
And if we could find you,
the fool, so cruel,
who started this
it’s YOU we’d feed on,
US you’d fear,
a collective pride,
of Panthers
on the prowl.
Copyright © Mary Carroll | Year Posted 2008
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Mary Carroll Poem
He: his best friend died years ago,
his heart attacked him in
April,
left him for dead,
but he’d fought his way back with
time and
an expert cardiologist.
She: used to feel cold, semi-homeless,
needy
nervous
always craved a man’s
approval,
attention
she never got.
But he scratched her back just so,
and sometimes
her belly,
and brought her dinner, and treats
and toys (she never lacks for them now).
Once even some bling: a red
heart, a blinking one,
to wear around her neck.
Together they walk long walks
around the block or
down the beach.
They sniff the salt air and wade through
sand and chase the
sea-gulls, or
Crunch their way through dry leaves
and earthy woods.
Now they sleep together, side-by-side,
her brown head nestled along his arm,
she gazes up at him with liquid yellow eyes.
They keep each other warm. She sighs contentedly, her look is adoration, such
total love, something only a dog can give.
She’s his one true Valentine.
And he’s her Boyfriend,
the One
she’ll never forget.
Copyright © Mary Carroll | Year Posted 2008
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Mary Carroll Poem
My ex is like...
a troll:
a short one, ugly and hairy but muscular.
My ex is like...
an overstuffed gnome,
like a Santa’s elf with a bristling beard, but
never a smile.
My ex is like...
Jabba the Hut:
gross, ill-mannered, greedy, selfish,
gobbling up whatever suits him.
My ex is gone. And my relief is like sunshine and
an open window after a heavy rain.
Copyright © Mary Carroll | Year Posted 2009
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Mary Carroll Poem
The strength
The alpha
The pride of
your pack.
U-
LU-
-LATE!
HOWL your pack together!
Lead your family
to cull
the weak
from the herd:
Silent
in the night
sharp teeth sink
into the flesh,
live,
quivering,
the hot sweet blood spurts
into your mouth.
The lupa, the she-wolf,
might be tempted to nurse
the weak:
Mowgli-the-Frog, or
Rhea Silvia’s twin boys.
But you WILL feed them
to your own offspring.
You’re much maligned,
but for a reason.
Copyright © Mary Carroll | Year Posted 2008
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