Loose ends ravel like rivers spilling
over their banks. Rain
heavier than
guilt for failures
smearing the filthy
earth around the muddy edges.
Bridges,
maintained by the corps
in charge of Katrina’s
levee, collapse into the
current, gathering
saplings, folding
them into the flow,
scrim and scum frothing
at the lockjawed log jam,
turtles sunbathing
on debris, hawks
circling, screaming
eagles away
from their prey. And
still, the creek
bed lies empty,
desiccated,
devastated.
About the Creator
Harper Lewis
Intrusive rhyme bothers me, except as a weapon.
Intertextuality is my passion.
Formalist/ New Critical are my guiding theories.
My words are mine, not a robot’s.
MA English literature, CofC
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