MONEY
There was just enough
money involved to write
on a folded up brown paper sack
with the nub of a short pencil
sharpened with a kitchen knife
the numbers keeping track
of how much money
we got that day from selling
what we grew from our roadside shack
what we sold to passing strangers
I looked hard at the numbers
to tell how their secret code
protected us and hid from us
what we believed belonged to us
Naomi, Louisiana, Plaquemines Parish, 29.7102 degrees N, 89.9923 degrees W,
21.5 miles below New Orleans on state road 23; after reading for a while in
THE COUNTRY UNDER MY SKIN, a memoir of love and war by Gioconda Belli;
recalling a map showing rising waters inundating what used to be habitable land,
some small number of arpents making up our farm; finding a driftwood plank I pulled out
of the water because I saw it said MISC PARTS; leaning back, seeing the blue sky,
thinking of James Turrell