Saturday, July 10, 2010

Remember When the Saints Had Us So High? (Oil Spill Poetry)



Another poem about the oil leak/spill in the Gulf of Mexico, 2010.

Gold and Black to Black Gold Blues
By Nordette N. Adams

Remember when the Saints had us so high,
so high that low meant do the slower second line
and the dirge signaled juke joint jig?
Remember when New Orleans won the Super Bowl
and none could silence our wild Tchoupitoulas,
Who Dat! hearts? The whole world laughed
and leaped to the beat of rebirth brass.

Black gold creeps up the wetlands grass,
invoking weeping Orishas.
It smothers shrimp, oysters, Brown Pelican wings--
extensions of Cajun and Creole soul,
of fishermen dreaming green,
and the splendid Carnival purple plume,
it dyes morbid gray.

Deepwater Horizon builds like night terrors
its own black hole beneath the Gulf,
swallowing the unseen, hiding
knowledge of death and life.

We live here in a purgatory of anticipation
that oils the slip of the trombone.
What once sounded like music
is noise.

But I must believe in the promise
of Phoenix feathers, in the hope of Easter morn,
I make believe the look of death
is Louisiana life
reborn.

© 2010 Nordette N. Adams

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