KATRINA'S BOYS

KATRINA’S BOYS

C2007 Rollion Milburn-Hampton

Katrina gave birth in rain and winds.

Katrina raged as she gave birth to twins.

I have met her boys, fear and loss.

They descended upon my home, hungry and strong.

Katrina’s boys are broken in ways you cannot see.

Katrina’s boys are drawn to me.

Like magnets, I am drawn to them.

I love Katrina’s male children.

I would keep them if I could.

If life would let me, I would draw them near.

Painters, singers, artists all, I would keep.

Instead I set them free, and I weep.

I can’t have everything.

I listen to soft, sexy, lyrical voices, from Cajun to swing,

Reminders from thirty years past,

When hurricanes were trapped in glasses.

If I could walk again through New Orleans, street and parks, alone,

I would find a place to keep Katrina’s boys safe,

And I would bring them home.

Katrina’s boys stalk and woo.

They tempt as only bayou warriors do.

They remind me of soft shell crabs with buttered bread.

I have visions of naked bodies in rumpled beds.

Sweat and hot peppers and cries from LSU.

These are men, thirty years away, not boys.

Hardened by their birth in Katrina’s winds and waves,

no longer toys.

I pass by, hungry for their touch.

I would caress them, but I love Katrina’s boys too much.

When I can, I send them home.

New Orleans needs them to heal her broken heart.

They need her as she needs them, they cannot live apart.

I will be the voice of my sweet city.

I will soothe them with hope, not pity.

Katrina’s boys need soft southern breezes, not northern winds.

They need a voice of reason.

They need the smell of boudin, and ribs grilling.

Katrina’s boys need to go home. God willing.