And

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.