THOUGHTS ON NEW ORLEANS #1

September 1, 2005 Chatanooga, TN

The year the city went underwater. The year that I understood the poem that I wrote, the city as turtle. She dives with swampy, webbed feet under the soft waves- folds of water caressing her neck, her scaly shoulders. I have to believe that she had already gone underwater- I mean, the essence of her- long before her outer limbs reeked of gasoline fuel and all the stink of humanity.
I believe she had a plan and a back-up plan. You know, like mothers do. One for children that behave and one for those who don’t. WIth her reptilian nose, she blew out the last bubbles of oxygen thirty feet below the surface before she went even further down and out into the shimmering sea. Her turtle cap turned to fins and the tiny holes used for breathing turned to gills. Her webbed feet remained the same, however. Sturdy, able to carry the weight of water. The tears she shed were not hers alone and she shed them as giant droplets resembling golden sand. A new earth, like a million tiny seeds for her children’s children to find and plant again. It would be just like her to turn her own pain into a game of hide and seek. Sing a song while you search for the kernels to start a new life all over again.