I don’t do poetry. Except when I do.
We were gathered today
Talking, writing, laughing
When the text came
A shooting today
In her school
In her classroom
Last day of class, a joyous event
Presentations, posters, final projects
Then he stood, fired
And they fell
Two injured
Two dead
Two more hang on
Lockdown and chaos
Students running, hiding
Classrooms empty
Fleeing building
Hands in air
Suspect in custody
Male, again
White, again
Lives destroyed
Emilie Vardaman 