So, Langston, what do I do
with a dream deferred?
Do I soak it in
a jar of formaldehyde,
bottle it up, repress it?
Should I sip its ooze,
hack its weathered bones
into dim lemon beads?
Wear it to honor lonely elephants
and the ghosts of Mardi Gras?
Or, should I allow it to fester
beneath an emaciated gray sky–
And then run?
2005
Notes:
This piece was inspired by a news story I read shortly before I returned to New Orleans. It’s so sad: Lonely elephants, edgy apes shaken by post-Katrina life at zoo
Thanks for letting me borrow your words, Langston. (As if you had any say!)