an abecedarian with a nod to Hank Williams, Chuck Berry,
Mary Chapin Carpenter, Doug Kershaw, and on and on
Alligator, underwater,
blowing bubbles in the swamp.
Children, careless, chucking rocks.
Dinner! Gator licks his chops.
Evening, everybody goes to
fais do-do in fancy clothes and
gewgaws. Grandmas dance in
homespun dresses, hand-sewn and dyed
indigo. Couples waltz to
Jolie Blonde, pause in corners,
kiss and chuckle. Children sleep, so
late the hour. Outside, the crescent
moon outlines trees and Spanish moss.
New Orleans, far away, is calling
over the Big Muddy. Goodbye Joe
poles the pirogue down the bayou.
Quarrels bust out, kinfolk shout,
rassling cousins. C’est la vie,
say the old folks, rocking.
Two-stepping young’uns dance
under mothers’ watchful eyes. In
vain, an uncle holds a chest-borne
washboard, plunks it with spoons, a
xylophone. Fiddle music melts with
yearning, where the wail and moan of
zydeco goes on and on.
Cloudbank journal of contemporary writing, Issue 20