day THREE HUNDRED and SEVENTY THREE

St. John Minadeo

Whenever I see a crossing guard’s bright yellow raincoat,

I think of St. John Minadeo—

            the car, brakes failed, rolling out of control down Hazelwood Avenue;

                        the driver, honking, flailing one arm out the window;

John, pushing the last classmate out of the way—

a split second before martyrdom.

And I think of what it means to make this city my home,

and of the time before it was decided

that mending the seams that sew our world together

was just too taxing,

and that it was a good idea to take care of things

just like St. John Minadeo did.

--Matthew Ussia

Matt Ussia is sentient organic matter, an academic, soft core punk, theremin player, photo-blogger, and podcaster who lives in Pittsburgh.