gets smaller
i heard that, way down in
new orleans,
the ground opened up and
swallowed
the old house (not the one
you've heard of
or the one that you haven't
but a third one),
that the ground was you.
i heard that
you could not bear to come
out of the
shadow of that red rock
and stand
in the blistering sun.
i heard that
the pacific has no memory,
but it scars.
it was you who taught me
to take these
(my grandfather's memories
somehow
deposited in my mind)
and build
with them a wall to stand
against your
waves and the eroded sand
with them.
i saw these things from the start:
the revenge
of the c students, the stillborn
plans, the
foundations gone to dust.
page revision: 2, last edited: 17 Apr 2026 23:40