I wrote an email that took about an hour to write. It is private so I will not post it. In it's place I'll add a poem I revised today.
Little Pigs
for Katrina.
Years after the burning of the Bad Wolf
the offspring of the third little pig
flourish on the
The nation reveres the three little ones—
They build eco-friendly high density straw
huts, carbon fiber inlaid hard wood
cabins, and steel reinforced brick domiciles .
They light bonfires every night and sing
Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf.
The big bad wolf. Who’s afraid
of the big bad wolf, certainly not me!
* * *
The old She-Wolf awakes from her slumber
finds that her youngest lies dead across
the sea in a foreign land and mourns.
Her thoughts clouded by revenge.
Stomach empty, rum drunk,
she slowly staggers across
the ocean—her anger
smolders steadily like burning
coal and she screams, little pigs
little pigs let me come in!
* * *
The little pigs confident
in their technology chant
their holy mantra not by the hairs
of our chinny chin chins.
She reaches the pig coast
and heaves and breathes and huffs
and puffs with all the fury of a mother’s
anger and blasts a flurry of air against the little pigs
and with one final gasp for air, dies.
* * *
The survivors looked out at sea.
The barren bleak landscape lay before them
and the largest of the little pigs yelled,
We shall overcome and we shall rebuild!
And the littlest of the little pigs whispered,
But, what could be stronger than brick?
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