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Showing posts with label mardi gras. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mardi gras. Show all posts

Sunday, August 29, 2021

HURRICANE WATCH, NEW ORLEANS

by Gail White


Mon., Aug. 30: Children watch reporters at a building collapse scene in New Orleans. Brandon Bell/Getty Images


Someday only the divers
will visit New Orleans.
The church bells will ring under water.

Kelp will encircle the rusting wrought iron
like Mardi Gras beads.
The round-eyed fish will roam free
with no one to cook them with almonds.

Drinks are not on the house now, but under the sea.
Politics cause no fights. Who wins doesn’t matter.

The artists are gone. The rich and the homeless are gone.
The old jazz musicians have shut up their instrument cases

I will be one of the few to remember the days
of white-powdered beignets and coffee at Jackson Square,
and Jackson himself on a rearing horse tipping his hat.

And the bells of St. Louis Cathedral
will ring for mass under the sea.


Gail White is a formalist poet and a contributing editor to Light. Her most recent collections are Asperity Street and Catechism. She lives in Breaux Bridge, Louisiana, with her husband and cats. 


Wednesday, March 06, 2013

PENITENTIAL SEASON OF LENT

by Martha Landman



"Police brutality alleged at Sydney Gay Mardi Gras: Outcry over video showing man being thrown to the ground during arrest." --The Guardian, March 6, 2013


                                "They just slammed his head. There's blood all over the ground."      


I had an epiphany the day before Ash Wednesday:
I drew my tourist card and earned $30m for the state

of New South Wales celebrating equal marriage rights
a thousand police officers proudly parading on my side

for this one day we’ll forfeit the right to see young revellers
manhandled and slammed to the ground, punched in the head

‘cause the cops told us so; during this time of penitence, and
for as long as you love me, we will not film the violence

the blood curdled cries: what have I done wrong?
For as long as we can breathe we’ll talk about

that sound of his head hitting the floor, Delta’s buzz
at the gay parade, the confessions still to be made.


Martha Landman is an Australian poet whose creativity feeds off the news.