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.
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