we sat in english class
the teacher had a deep voice
and loud
he asked us:
“what is tomorrow?”

we looked at each other
“september 11th.”
Jordan was short
but her hair was long

“wednesday.”
Jake’s voice was so quiet
It was beautiful
beautiful things are quiet sometimes,
I guess

“it’s the day I have choir.”
the blonde girl said
i don’t remember her name
she sings beautifully

everyone told him
with their voices not quite so deep
what tomorrow was

i closed my eyes

tomorrow was the day I ran

not in a race
or on a track

I ran up the stairs in my basement
away from empty shells
and blood on the concrete