Teen Poetry Contest Winner for 2000
Maureen Jacob
Niles North High School, Grade 11

Midnight Highway: Arkansas

Red is our history
Wild redcoats running,
1780 Spring Solstice.
Their feet slap the black earth
In the rays of sunlight
Which rise on the corpses rotting...
Tradition has fallen to black.

The symbol of strife
Stains the fluid fields
Of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania;
The aftermath of testosterone
July 3rd, 1863.
The color of revolution,
Of radical thought
Has braded its scarlet hue
Into the crimson sky...
Looking overhead
You can still bask in it

Lakota watcher woman
Rises in the witching hour
Of blackness
To peer out on her final night
of endlessness.
The cannons of the cavalry
Roar down on
The void of her eyes
And an amber star twinkles in the heavens-
A warning of the massacre
To come.

The world is silent.
A time of motionless,
effortless fear.
Although I am
All but immune
To the ashy terror of the hour,
I proceed to plow through the
Ruby night.
I'm a night terror-
A fading,
dusty reflection in the windshield.

Red is my over-dyed hair-
Dyed black strands
Mixed in the mangled chaos atop a pale façade.
I have inherited your fear,
Your scars are reborn in me.
Although I paint over it,
I will always remain red with your sin.