Mamma Fay waves off her green gypsy dress,
Pulls the next cigarette to her humming bird lips,
Picks through the cards and the beads in her bag,
Fingertips through her voodoo and prayers…
Mamma Fay walks to the water
Lovers, hold on to your loves
Fathers, hold on to your daughters
Mother’s, keep hold of the ones kept indoors
We walk to the water in history’s shoes and we
Move with a grace in a skin,
Last New Orleans dawn of July and the sky
Bites its tongue on a charm and a chain…
Mamma Fay, bathes in the water
Lover, hold on to your love
Mother, keep hold of your daughter
Father, hold on to the ones kept indoors
We bathe in the river, we grieve,
Cool ink runs slick beneath black ribbon hair.
A green gypsy dress meets the morning,
We breathe in the New Orleans air.
…A late rumination on seeing New Orleans, Installment 5… My New New Orleans Muse
Mamma gave us a tarot-card reading, the rest but the dress came with feeling.