My Mama and ‘Em Stayed in New Orleans

Hands made of bronze steel

braided at the knuckles with soot and rust 

heels coated with a poultice of clay 

night drenched skin 

lets the moon dig sweat glistening streams into your cheeks 

cheek bones lone vessels anchored at their peak

cul de sac of fat and murk at the stomach 

Have I tossed amongst the brown chrysanths

that sprout at the opening of your arms

A city of white bricked cathedrals blotched with old gum

in your eyes

vanishes in a blink