I’m reading a poetry collection, and an image forms in my mind, a memory I hadn’t recalled in years. I’m 11, and my mother arranged for me to spend a week with my widowed aunt who lived in the Lower Ninth Ward of New Orleans. She was the family historian, and I was the family reader, so I suppose my mother thought we’d be a match. We were.
She was a force to be reckoned with. In her lifetime, she crossed swords with reluctant neighbors, homeowner associations, historical commissions, the New Orleans City Council, and just about anyone whom she saw standing in the way of historical preservation and urban beautification. She also buried every deceased pet in her deep back yard, well behind her pre-Civil War house.
To continue reading, please see my post today at Tweetspeak Poetry.
Some Friday Readings
Found in Translation: Love’s Fire and Ice – L.L. Barkat at Tweetspeak Poetry.
“Hendecasyllabics,” poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne – Joseph Bottum at Poems Ancient and Modern.
Formalist, Farmer, and Faithful – Marie Burdett at New Verse Review.
No comments:
Post a Comment