Katrina ripped the face off the saint
in the Catholic church, warped 
the pews. Bloated up dogs roadside.
The old black woman showed
me through FEMA chain link 
how God points his angry finger. 
 
The journalist barricaded
himself in to protect his son’s nursery
and then watched soldiers haul body bags. 
Treacherous trees at Tulane. K’s kickass
funeral in the French Quarter, mummers,
trumpets and saxophones. Collapsed silence
in the Ninth. The picture of the altar boy
in communion robes buried in mud.
Those stories.
 
My story is of the white cat,
a skeletal whiteness hiding
where live oaks had no leaves left to lose. 
She skulked, suspicious green eyes
under an oily blue Honda. A battered
aluminum tray of cat kibble swarmed
with yellow jackets under the passenger side. 
Searchers spray-painting orange counts,
had come and gone – yellow jackets and this cat 
all that moved on a side street 
of squashed homes and tipped hydrants.
 
I left water. I ripped ham from dry
FEMA bread. This silence of skin-and-bones
still brushes my low-boot memory.
                        

This neighborhood optimist daring
to host outside the confines
of a garage, a lawn 
of old sleeping bags, 
ragged winter mittens, 
fuchsia candles,
calico potholders,
a “used only once” bbq smoker,
and an end table 
with a leg that wobbles. 
 
All that I need is there.
A replacement beer glass
for the one you dropped
on the front porch 
and a cat’s eye marble
with a thrill of purple
running through the center
so I don’t need to adopt
a cat.
                        

Be grateful you can breathe. 
 
Encourage flowers to shrink to seeds. 
 
Your horrible secret? Tell it to a dog. 
 
The lover you seek knows your secret. 
 
When six vultures show up in a newly hayed field,
   assume there are dead rodents. 
 
If your cell phone tells you your weight,
   throw it in the river.
 
Treat all creatures as sentences from a holy text.
 
Plant creatures also respond to change. 
 
Heart attacks do not require arrows. 
 
If you are served tongue, you do not have to swallow it. 
 
Remember Voyager. The sky is not the limit. 
 
Redefine sanctuary. 
 
Light the candle that smells of blue spruce. 
 
The stone Buddha under snow is still
   the Buddha.