Fragments of The Sacrificial World
Porpoises feed every morning in the shallows
it’s hard to tell tail from fin even
on flatwater
My dog belly-up scratches her back on some pelican froth
at the hightide line hard to tell snout from tail
She finds dead things in the rough
a joie this morning we share
A fleet of white pelicans seems somewhat acquainted
with the porpoises’ drill
in an indifferent kind of way
in a we’re-really-not-looking-for-a-hand-out
kind of way
And if I think a shrimp eel has written my name in the sand there’s always
ecotheory and the justified tide to set me right
Weather and the rough disappears and
per se and absence tangles me
the rough recedes
the rough covers the levee
the rough disappears
Twenty-one white jewels pinned
to the seam of the gulf a frayed watchpocket
a long hem wind that won’t lay down
Grand Isle Invocation
Park near the cemetery
where there is a playground and picnic tables.
Some of the best birds of the day have been seen here while eating lunch.
—Orleans Audubon Society
The warblers, vireos and thrushes fall out
their three-day spring-break drunk
into oak and hackberry They’ve stopped to see
if the island is still dying and since it is
they continue on…
(I too can be seen here misplaced…)
Before I die a single live oak will catch
their exhaustion They will cubby
like high-tops hung from the Loneliest Road
in America They will sing the LSU fight song
and take the 18-hour flight the red-eye
back to Cancún