This has been a month of losses for me. The Ballard Bridge would have been great but being in residence and a full time job, that would have been tough. Three other poems I put out for publication were rejected and into this mix the death of my sister Mary. After having coffee with my brother this morning I revised this poem:
Her name is Louisiana
A rambling girl. A bigger
Purchase never visited by me.
She had many a spat
Tit for tat- Katrina
A recent cat fight.
Mass exit makes for mass entrance
Big chiefs lead parades.
Streets pour with water
Occasional sofa and love seat
Blister alleyways. She’s pretty
My Louisiana- that ninth ward
Should have been exhumed earlier
Or been more honest in presentation.
I see my Louisiana on TV, its super
Dome like a Tierra, tossed.
But she comes back dressed and sweaty
For the next event- that’s my girl.