READINESS PRACTICE
Fighter jets loop fat chalk
marks on a turquoise
sky while I’m daydreaming
out my third grade
classroom window. The air raid
siren blasts and Mrs. Fisher hollers,
“Kids, get under your desks, arms
over your heads!” I crouch beneath
my pink metal bomb shelter, eyes
squeezed shut, waiting for the end. This
is what the last minute will be like,
I narrate to myself, The bomb
drops just like that, an enormoid
ball of flame bigger than the sun, but
it’s like reading The Weekly Reader out
loud and my mind drifts. Through
the classroom’s open door insects
pop and click. Weeds reeking
in desert sun: stinkweed, goat heads,
and alfalfa by the tether balls where
I practice praying to see if
it works. Please, make Dean Posey
love me. But he turns his buck-toothed
smile toward that nasty Cindy Mercer
and a sonic boom shakes the swings when
he asks her to play kickball. I punch
the deflated yellow ball against
its whining pole, hard, and I picture
the shrunken ball sucked away and
swallowed by a relentless
heaven. The fragile thread attaching
me to gravity
snaps and I whoosh into space,
whirl farther and farther above
this little earth, crash into John Glenn
and the Cosmonauts. Cracking open
one eye, I peek at my desk’s moonscape
underbelly of gum wads and dried
snot, wondering if the sky has
a ceiling like my bedroom at home
with its glow-in-the-dark stars, and maybe
you smash into it when you die, but what’s
after that? Now, Mrs. Fisher’s voice
slams me awake, “Children, readiness
practice is over. Your arithmetic
test is next.” And, climbing back
into my seat, I smell eraser
dust. Cindy Mercer’s eating paste
again; Dean Posey throws up
his baloney sandwich, and everything’s
back to normal.
—Kate Fetherston
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Kate Fetherston’s first book of poems, Until Nothing More Can Break, is due out from Antrim House later this spring. Her poetry and essays have appeared in numerous journals, including North American Review, Hunger Mountain, Nimrod, and Third Coast. She co-edited Manthology: Poems on the Male Experience, (University of Iowa) and Open Book: Essays from the Postgraduate Writers’ Conference, (Cambridge Scholars Press). Kate holds an MFA from Vermont College and was a finalist for the Pablo Neruda Prize in 2008 and 2010. She’s received Pushcart nominations from 2002 to 2011. Kate is a psychotherapist in private practice in Montpelier, Vermont.
Takes me back to Belvoir Elementary a million years ago. Beautifully rendered elegy, Kate.