Monroe, LA

The slight sweet scent of pink lemonade honeysuckle
in the shaded courtyard of a Louisiana psychiatric hospital.

I could stay here, rocking slowly, and just the scent
could put things right.

The river is cresting, her name is Ouachita.
Locals here pronounce it "Wash-ee-taw".

She rolls smooth brown and gentle, hides her terrible power
behind fluttering false eyelashes and the sweetness of her smile

There's not enough time to know you,
but I am glad I met you