CAKE
she said, "let them eat cake"
this astrodome is better than anything
they have ever known—
and they ate
they passed the praline southern
caramel brown sweet confection
thick as the mississippi mud
now covering their homes
sinking eight feet, ten feet deep
in katrina's anger
in the heaviness of the delta
in the heaviness of the ecoli
in the heaviness of the chemicals
in the heaviness of the bloated bodies
she told them to eat cake
their intestinal tracts bellowing
of loneliness like the crescent
of a texas moon, a large yellowed
cistern aching
with emptiness, hunger
feeding on the bitter bite of white
wonder bread sandwiches
handed to fingers weighted by loss
unexpected
diet soda swished across lips
from aluminum cans
used to sipping sweet southern tea
on the evening porch starlight
while mosquitoes jazzed
and fireflies blinked the blues
and now the dogs bony carcasses
pain the volunteers
as they sift through the swampland
looking for any life at all
barbara,
have some jambalaya—
Debby
Mitchell is a poet, teacher, desert interpreter in Arizona.
She will be teaching poetry this summer at a university in
Phoenix. Debby gives workshops to students to encourage them
to think with imagination and write poetry—outside the box.
She enjoys working and teaching visitors to the Sonoran
desert about the plants, animals, and people who live there.
Through desert interpretation she is trying to preserve the
desert environment. Her poetry and photography of the desert
will be in a forthcoming book. . .