I. Old Sin, Ill Wind

Breeze: devil-made, it
Mocks their suffering and laughs
When sweat stings their eyes

Breeze: nature’s cruel joke
Back-handed gift to black slaves
In hellish cane fields

Breeze: cooling white breasts
Down-river in New Orleans
As belles drink sweet tea

II. The Storm Comes To The Ninth Ward

Urban inferno
Glass, not grass, in the ghetto
A concrete meadow

Gnarled oak is thirsty
Stray cats pant under porches
Heat rising in waves

False relief, this rain
Like welfare checks on the first
Don’t ride this one out!

III. Armada

Louisiana graveyards
Reborn with old dead

Caskets once asleep
Pulled from their beds by the floods
Bones and dust askew

Levees, powerless
Watch tornado-blessed fleets of
Haunted little boats

IV. City Park

Crepe Myrtle buds fly
Pink storm of late summer joy!
Nature’s confetti

But quivering Moss
Recalls whispers of ill wind
Coming in August

Live Oaks, those giants
Fear no flood, but remember
Her harrowing wrath

V. Sieur de Bienville’s Folly

Thinking levees can stop the

Ever-present threat
The water wants the city
And means to have it

River, canals, lakes
Biding their time, awaiting
The next Katrina


About Nicole Moliere

Nicole Moliere is a freelance writer with a degree in journalism from Louisiana State University. Her work has appeared most recently in The Washington Post and New Orleans By New Orleans, a literary and visual art anthology about the Crescent City.
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