without warning, the kingdom
of heaven was streaming across
the road, all moving slowly
even the swift, straggling between
orange cones set up by policemen.
Some were walking alone. Others
were pushed in wheelchairs or led
by the hand towards the terminus,
a low lying brick elementary school.
set just past a thin strand of pine.
At first the waiting cars were
touched at the high fives, loopy
grins and lusty cheers but the line,
the human line it was endless
til it started to pain one,
all the constant shuffling,
uncoordinated sweats, and
disproportionate triumph as
milk warmed, meat soured
and just bought pastries drooped.
So the cars started to curse it, some
having just enough space to hit
reverse and angle carefully out
followed by a quick indignant left
turn back the other way, finally
free again to get ice for the football
game, rake up oak leaves and then
quietly lie down in torment.
Jenn Blair's poetry has been published in Copper Nickel, Tulane Review, Cold Mountain
Review, New South, Kestrel, Superstition Review, Rattle, and Blood Orange Review among others. Her
chapbook All Things are Ordered is
out from Finishing Line Press.