[Rough Draft]

A weblog about god, doubt, insomnia, culture, baseball


bright, shining new poet

my boss, judge alexander, brought me a book of poems and photographs by kids enrolled in the new orleans center for creative art / riverfront, one of whom happens to be her niece, hallie rundle. i was stunned. literally. the work was superb, across the board. i emailed hallie and got her permission (thanks, hallie!) to put one of her poems on my blog for y'all to read. i think you'll agree that it's amazing work for any poet, much less one still in high school.

Her long fingers are these narrow streets
that loop into each other,
all bending toward the sea.

The dark fringe of her hair
is the low black sky hovering
over the horizon,

her sloped shoulder.
Winter's rare snows shroud
her face and glaze the iron scars

of streetcar tracks across her forehead;
her tears are these silvered
sardines that the fishermen sell

along the ice-slick curve of her neck.
Her children live in houses built
between her wrinkles; they breathe

her own salt breath,
and when she sighs, the hems
of their unbuttoned jackets flutter.

now we can all say: "i knew her when . . . ." nice work, hallie. thanks, again.


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