dedicated to the nine
children
Clasping like bucklers
to their bodies, books,
nine
children move through blasts of killing
looks.
Committed to this battle
each child dares,
deliberately,
the fusillades of jeers.
Their valor iron
in their ironed clothes
they walk
politely in their polished shoes
down ambushed halls to classrooms sown with mines
to learn
their lessons. Obviously nine’s
a
carefully calculated number, odd
not even,
a suave size that can be add-
ed to
discreetly, later, or culled now
should
one child break not bend; or fail to bow
sufficiently
his bloody head… a rule
to heed,
child, be you black and going to school.
by
Isabella Gardner