Friday, January 18, 2013

The Frenchmen

photo © Mark Butkus 2015
Evangeline on Frenchmen Street New Orleans.

It was at the Maison
where they came to life
Amid the crush
of Saturday night

Smelling of beer
and some other smoke
they kicked the week away

Cajun souls with Creole blood
Forgotten foremothers forgotten forefathers
dripped with sweat upon the floor

On Frenchmen Street by Washington Square
They sell the resolve
of inspiration
to the highest bidder

She would dance alone
with everyone there
The one that lives in but a dream

A note sustained
until the morn
before succumbing
to morning prayers

On bended knee she spoke to God
Asking not forgiveness
but for next Saturday night

The boys would have a week to remember
The men would have a week to forget
the one they call Evangeline.


— Mark Butkus


6 comments:

  1. wow how haunting she is...asking not forgiveness but for the next time...an interesting person she is...and you give her life in your verse....

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  2. She would dance alone with everyone there... could tell many a different story, a strong vivid write...

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  3. oha...she sounds like quite the character..i can imagine that new orleans has its very own spell..

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  4. This poem I felt like I watched, not read. Excellent!

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  5. I like this. It's different. You idealize Evangeline, you describe her and you know her well. I've never been to New Orleans, it sounds like it has it's wild side, like Evangeline.

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