New Orleans, La.

Ever'thing, Floetry

NOLA rhymes flow upwards in gutters’ miasmic outgassing;
Passing strange, this mangy memory that follows me home:
“Mom, can I keep her?”
A cur, true, but beautiful, broken bodied, bright with teeth,
A new belief brings old lies to their knees.
Pleading my case before anyone who’ll listen, nola contendere.