digital photoart: ralph murre
TRUANT
by
Margaret Hasse
Our
high school principal wagged his finger
over
two manila folders
lying
on his desk, labeled with our names––
my
boyfriend and me––
called
to his office for skipping school.
The
day before, we ditched Latin and world history
to
chase shadows of clouds on a motorcycle.
We
roared down empty rural roads
through
the Missouri River bottoms beyond town,
wind
teasing the hair on our bare heads
emptied
of review tests and future plans.
We
stopped on a dirt road to hear
a
meadowlark’s skittish song and smell
heart-break
blossom of wild plum.
Beyond
leaning fence posts and barbwire,
a
tractor drew straight lines across the field
unfurling
its cape of blackbirds.
Now
fifty years after that geography lesson
of
spring, I remember the words
of
the principal, how right he was in saying:
This will become part
of your permanent record.
~
from Earth’s Appetite (Nodin Press)
