Katrina

Spiral power, fluid run the groan of the earth has just begun Winds cusp the gulf against her will Shoulders of land in brine distill Creaking of Creole, tip of the tin Southern sky whipping about to begin Silent French Quarters, no reverie now the wind rips off roofs with a nod and a bow Blanket of blackness, blue air tonight inhuman howl, an eye with no sight History eaten, ground into the silt a whisper of brick left from whence she was built Quiet of motion, permanent pain the searing, wet kiss of a ripe hurricane.