by Barclay Kenyon - America
"Shoot into the sky, burn the city to the ground" - Anon. N.O.
When the rains came, and the walls collapsed under
the lash of some furious tongue of hurricane song
We were left clinging to rooftops, strung up on the bridges
watching alligators accomodate those cats and corpses.
Watching the burning sun steal out our breath.
The glass streets of the Quarter, of Chartres and Bienville soaked
With muddybottom and crayfish; the harbor doomed.
The deep trombones resound beneath the water
to send along the coffins yet again
by light of a mockingbird moon.
Look-a-here, we thought, you could come and
save us from our tumultuous home-
Our home we said for all of time. Don't let us
be buried here in your imaginations. Act now.
You won't regret it; we'll give you our song...
The mystery deepens, like Gamorrah, and our town begins
to haunt the American sleep. Oh man,
we have always lived in your dreams
but now this bitch, this Katrina, this killer come on down
with her howler monkey song and broad dampening skirts
has brought us so low
that we may never make it to the table again.
We're wading now with prickly eyes to the window
just to see them X-cross an old floater. Our young are shocked
with confusion at the silence, and the lies.
Cars grow on sycamore trees. Houses flow by like fallen leaves.
You'll remember us, dreaming, you will
even if you cannot save us now.
Hellicane category: SURVIVORS' Tales