Brian’sPoems

Walnut Hills

Sursum ad Summum.

This morning I remember
all the sitting and waiting
for my classes to begin
inside that giant stone building,
constructed by laborers
who came to work every day
along Victory Parkway
carrying in their pockets a weight
called the Great Depression.

Before class we’d sit
on a polished stone floor,
leaning against walls a foot thick
while gazing up at the windows
toward a faint shaft of light.

Even then,
some thirty odd years ago,
no one was feeding us stories
about a life without consequences.

In time,
we’d learn more from graffiti
and the clanking coal boiler
than we possibly could
by studying for a way out
of this world going nowhere.