MUSED
BellaOnline Literary Review
Tampa Bay Sunset by Lisa Shea

Table of Contents

Poetry


I Am Not Sure What I Am

April Salzano

doing here, why you are still
talking about a packed lunch
and how the clock has moved
an hour in the space of this
conversation. I am late to rescue my son
from the special school. The amputated
buses will have moved into the cul de sac,
blocking the pick-up lane. Parents
will be crawling through the building
in search of their lost and broken,
trenching themselves in the office, snipers
asking for details for the day, explaining,
excusing, traffic and all things unforeseen.
Their questions always blare correct
punctuation, exclamation or inquisition,
no one cares enough to respond with words
we need to hear—it is going to be okay. It is not
your fault. You did everything you could.




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