I pour a cup of coffee
Watching the news
Remembering my prom night
As the music played
I looked around and thought
How easy it would be
To shoot into a room full of kids
They songs they played
About our future
Thumping and loud
I listened
And wondered if
Gunshots would be louder
I contemplated
How hard it would be
To run away in high heels
I wore a black dress
Black is easier to hide in
And I could always
Reuse it
For the funeral
I pour a cup of coffee
Watching the children
Who didn’t make it
We write about these problems
Knowing no amount
Of art or death
Will never
Solve them
Because
There’s not a lot of money
in either of those
For those involved
Alyssa Rafferty is a writer.
