careful not to rattle a door, set off
an alarm, or draw undue suspicion
best to keep both your hands up in the air
come children, silently into your chairs
tuck your head between your knees
and worry not that you don’t comprehend
the unspoken in these exercises
your teacher has been well trained to look past
your desks, past the question marks on your face
to the windows and doors, to the echoes
in the hall and the strains of danger, with
one hand in the drawer and a finger on the trigger
Lianne Kamp resides in Boston, Massachusetts. Her poems and short stories appear in assorted print journals and on-line publications including: Poets Reading the News, Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, Scarlet Leaf Review, Poetry Quarterly, Dual Coast Magazine, and a number of Prolific Press anthologies. She writes poetry to make her world-view more panoramic by examining it more closely.
