The Bowling Green Massacre
by Shahé Mankerian
We saw a boy stabbed with a bayonet
on the wayside. A cannonball scarred
the suicidal sundial on the rolling hill.
Galloping horses bled as they crossed
the Barren River. The firing squad
of mercenaries executed wayward
missionaries against the brick
of the crumbling church. A man dressed
like Napoleon claimed he was Washington
and marched over a carpet of redcoats.
The clock tower chimed twelve.
The general cocked his pistol
and silenced the clock tower.
No one screamed. No one blamed
the skirmish on the sniper. Breathless,
we fell against the barricaded well
and filled our canisters with slime.
on the wayside. A cannonball scarred
the suicidal sundial on the rolling hill.
Galloping horses bled as they crossed
the Barren River. The firing squad
of mercenaries executed wayward
missionaries against the brick
of the crumbling church. A man dressed
like Napoleon claimed he was Washington
and marched over a carpet of redcoats.
The clock tower chimed twelve.
The general cocked his pistol
and silenced the clock tower.
No one screamed. No one blamed
the skirmish on the sniper. Breathless,
we fell against the barricaded well
and filled our canisters with slime.
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Shahé Mankerian is the principal of St. Gregory Hovsepian School in Pasadena and the co-director of the L.A. Writing Project. He is the recipient of the Los Angeles Music Center's BRAVO Award, which recognizes teachers for innovation in arts education. In 2016, Mankerian’s poem was a finalist at the Gotham Writers 91-Word Memoir Contest. His manuscript, History of Forgetfulness, has been a finalist at the Crab Orchard Poetry Open, the Bibby First Book Competition, the Quercus Review Poetry Book Award, and the White Pine Press Poetry Prize. Shahé received the 2017 Editors’ Prize from MARY: A Journal of New Writing.
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