This blog was created by students at the UDC David A. Clarke School of Law to record their thoughts and observations about our Katrina & Beyond course and Spring Break service project to New Orleans.
some whispered truth stains ghoulish imprints on my dreams i awake, still here
My first night in New Orleans, I stay with my friend who lives in Midcity. Across the street from her, a house skeleton stands, its guts neatly piled in the yard. A FEMA trailer sits on the corner, small and foreign. The weekend before I arrive, the crackhouse two doors down burned to the ground, lighting up the whole street and waking my friend up in the middle of the night. "It's amazing how loud a fire can be," she tells me.
My friend and I drive to a coffee shop within walking distance of her house. She says it depresses her to walk around her neighborhood. I have a nightmare the first night, not sure what about. This haiku comes outta that first night, when I sleep, uneasily awaiting what new skeletons I'll see tomorrow.
2 comments:
deep haiku
Right back atcha, Lane:
some whispered truth stains
ghoulish imprints on my dreams
i awake, still here
My first night in New Orleans, I stay with my friend who lives in Midcity. Across the street from her, a house skeleton stands, its guts neatly piled in the yard. A FEMA trailer sits on the corner, small and foreign. The weekend before I arrive, the crackhouse two doors down burned to the ground, lighting up the whole street and waking my friend up in the middle of the night. "It's amazing how loud a fire can be," she tells me.
My friend and I drive to a coffee shop within walking distance of her house. She says it depresses her to walk around her neighborhood. I have a nightmare the first night, not sure what about. This haiku comes outta that first night, when I sleep, uneasily awaiting what new skeletons I'll see tomorrow.
Post a Comment