[new orleans]

certain women forget the ones

who hurt them.

they walk along the shoreline

and spit sea-glass into the foam,

so intent upon displacement.

blue sky. soft jazz.

running barefoot towards

a wraparound porch, calling out

for songbirds. praying

for the lilies to open.

i am deep-kissing in the bayou.

there are years of pain

between my palms,

but i am forgetting. one moment

follows another, and i am

walking home with someone

i met tonight. a stranger.

and i am not afraid.

and i am not turning back.