by Brian Dickson
She ferries the neighborhood
sayin’ been here for thirty years,
been hoping for something good.
Across the street once stood
the closed school. Lost tears
she ferries in the neighborhood.
Police repelled into windows, bud.
Active shooter trainings, you know? Fears
and hopes of something good
from those fully armored outfits flood-
ing its roofs. She says take the tour, hear
cardboard targets echo in the neighborhood.
The school was sold last week…It’s understood
the Catholics have the money she says, near
twenty million. Better be good.
Anyway, my zucchini are withering duds,
So are Stacey’s down the block. Her
kids run wild in the neighborhood.
We are hoping for something good.
When not teaching at the Community College of Denver, Brian Dickson avoids driving to connect with the quotidian around him, hang and shoot hoops. He is also an associate editor of New Feathers Anthology. Past publications include two chapbooks, In a Heart’s Rut (HighFive press), Maybe This is How Tides Work (Finishing Line Press), and one book, All Points Radiant (WordTech, Cherry Grove Editions) and various journals, most recently Bodega Mag. His forthcoming chapbook, A Child’s Sketch of the Afterlife, is expected to arrive in 2025 from Finishing Line Press.