by Delilah Coyne
Filth and funk.
Debris laden sidewalks.
The house slumps.
Front door kicked in
A once-tended garden shrivels,
brown and crisp.
Weeds have overtaken the yard,
Only weeds could thrive
amidst the black oily sludge left behind.
Windows, broken, are holes
to a gutted house, silent and abandoned.
A yellow Tonka truck
lies broken in a pile of debris
alongside splintered lumber and a toilet.
Refrigerators sit, slanted on the curb,
rusted and taped shut.
Water line on the stucco at 10 feet...
A large number,
hastily spray painted
on the front of the house.
...the number of bodies found in this dwelling after the water receded.
Block after block, every home looks the same.
Author's Note: Went down to Chalmette today (St. Bernard Parish). It was one of the areas hit hardest by Katrina. My family is from that area and I hadn't been there since the storm. To say it was unbelievable is a gross understatement.
Posted on 04/15/2006
Copyright © 2020 Delilah Coyne
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Christel Crews on 04/15/06 at 05:05 AM|
you've painted a very clear picture here and it only skims the surface of the destruction.. i hope you are doing alright
|Posted by Joan Serratelli on 04/15/06 at 01:38 PM|
A very vivid and depressing picture of the destruction of Katrin's wrath (I assume this is about Katrina).
Good imagery. Well written- good read.