Blackwater Zydeco
from a friend in new orleans i hear
how filthy, dirty, diseased--
where life-giving water wages liquid war
on the lives it long supported--
life beneath blue roofs under grey skies
in black water--
the very air has revolted,
turned from salty sea breeze to
the breath of a briny dump-heap--
a city built on water, by water
bled wet until its brittle bones gave way--
leaving only the grim report sent up
the mississippi
to the tune of a tired old zydeco song
last remnant of the past city--
from a french quarter gift shop
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