LET HER
New Orleans, Lower Garden District, ‘21
⃞
This letter is a channeling––light spilling,
into a tiny frame––
my perception of life at that time.
Rue,
a demeanor,
an encounter,
&
the Garden District’s
way to announce
its habitat.
New Orlean’s ghosts linger in past, present, and future–
whispering
in floral tongue &
whiffs of fried food. I keep wondering…
This is a thing,
yet what is it?
The process of becoming,
one person with
something to create.
LET HER
though constance
Today weighs in rain.
Fog–– let’s clear the lens
Star Jasmine––they smell so good.
Boarding fences,
climbing polls.
Are you open?
To new
discoveries?
Are you
fair?
Wind tickles
mini white roses.
An iron fence
creaks open.
Pooled rain glistens.
Shed a facade—
off a fallen palm.
What can be told
that one doesn’t
already know?
Water pelts off umbrella.
Oaks also provide cover.
Roots pull up.
Wrestling with
concrete,
accidentally–
inevitably.
I don't know
what story is written
or writing.
“It don’t matter if
the rain tries again.
Take the rest
of the day off.”
Painted chairs
& knobby
crepe myrtle.
Fried food
is the muse
& messes the muse...
[tail wagging]
“This is Rue.
He’s an old man.
Can’t see.
Can't hear.
He can eat though...
Pick up your poop. ”
The sun dashing through mist.
Tell me about fluorescence–
Acknowledgements
Thank you to the many beings helping with this project. Bill and Missy Dalton for their home and keen appreciation to the beauty and history of New Orleans. To dad for vespa trips to Mollys, City Park, and a many po’boy & thank you to the beloved city of New Orleans.
About the author
Colleen Elizabeth Jaggi is an artist
living in New England.