I can’t find my kids.
They just had active shooter
training & practiced leaving
school in an orderly fashion.
They’re supposed to meet
at St. Phillips on the corner;
Luke says if it looks bad,
he might run
into the woods instead.
Sam tells me to find
him at WaWa where he hopes
to gorge on soda & Airheads
while he waits.
Simon promises he’ll race
to the church, but plans to walk
home if things take too long.
Every day, someone shoots
up a school, and I’m tired
of looking for the boys.
Last night, at work, my patient
said he was driving & gave
the wheel to God.
He drove into a tree.
His nine year old daughter
sat in the front seat.
Today, my kids are bunched
together in front of the school.
When they tumble into the car,
I smell April in their hair.
The boys ask me if God
is a guy who likes to drive
his children into trees.
–
Rachel Mallalieu is an emergency medicine physician and mother of five. She writes poetry in her spare time. Rachel is the author of A History of Resurrection (Alien Buddha Press 2022). Some of her recent poetry is featured or forthcoming in Nelle, DIALOGIST, Rattle, and Chestnut Review.