Fall Creek Parkway Indianapolis 1959
by John Sherman
by John Sherman
I know just where she was
along fall creek parkway
south of the marott
apartments
that I now drive by every
week
how often I glance at the
sidewalk
that I have designated the
very spot where
she was in full stride on her
way to school
when a young white boy cried
out at her
from the yellow bus that
rushed into her life
and pushed on through heavy
traffic
before she could hear our
collective gasp
and our own words of anger at
an unseemly act
a frozen series of moments
remembered:
the back of the girl’s head
the long gray coat
the shoulders bent over an
armful of books
a second or two before
his sudden leap across the
bus
to get to the window
his word
our reaction
as adults we remember most
clearly
the split-second joyful and
hurtful intensities of
childhood:
the boy’s sudden leap into
the air
the jerk of our heads in his
direction
the open mouthed face
protruding
into such a calm morning
Bio: John Sherman has published three books of poetry. His
poems have appeared in many literary journals and anthologies. One of his poems
was selected to appear on an Indianapolis Cultural Trail bus stop. Another was
selected for the poet-quilter collaboration, Poetry in Free Motion. He is the
recipient of a Creative Renewal Artist Fellowship and Individual Arts Program
grants for his writing.
Street School
by Robin Lovelace
by Robin Lovelace
My
sister and me in 1970.
Mulattoes
with wavy hair and golden skin.
Skinny
young mules with smooth faces and long colt legs, coming from
the Dairy Queen.
the Dairy Queen.
We
pass a black man on the sidewalk. He looks us up and down, smiles
and we smile back, from behind our melting ice cream cones.
and we smile back, from behind our melting ice cream cones.
Unwise
in the ways of black men, other than our weekend father, grateful
to see one in our cottony white neighborhood.
to see one in our cottony white neighborhood.
He
yells it. “Niggers.”
Wants
to remind us of what we are.
Frightened.
Stunned.
It
was not the last time we were called that name.
Bio: Robin
Lovelace was born and raised in Indianapolis, lived in Evansville for a few
years and now lives in Plainfield with her husband and her dog. She has been
writing stories on and off for at least 30 years. Three short stories were
published in various literary magazines in the 1990s, and she won second place
in the Ohio Valley Fiction Contest in 2000. She self-published a novel as an
e-book in October 2013. Robin is currently working on a science fiction story
set in Memphis. About the poem: “I rarely write poetry, but this memory came to
mind when I was at the Plainfield Dairy Queen a few weeks ago.”