It’s the blight on the window glass
that keeps anyone from believing
Wellesley must be an optical illusion.
Like the landfill, we push it to the farthest
edge geometry allows.
When we were six we wondered
what the people from Barton Road would look
like. But in second grade my sister met
Steven Kelley and from then on Steven was the face
of the impossible. He murdered us
week after week in the spelling bee.
It was like retribution
for our fathers