Exile from the Goldenrod Field (Taylor McCleery Sloey-Lafayette, LA)

It’s time to start working on your skin again
You think
You’ve been finding blemishes 
After long nights of self reflection
And it hurts

They’ve packed up your prairie solace
Into a storage unit 
While you were off chasing your dreams
The ones you talked of incessantly with your old mulberry tree
How insensitive that must have been, you now think

Those roots had always supported you and your dreams
Right up until the point you ripped them from your feet to sink barestock into a swamp
But now, they’ve disappeared, and you won’t get to say goodbye.
Objects, land, and photos 
Feel more like dead grandparents you weren’t brave enough to go see at the hospital.

Yes. Mom and Dad are retiring and moving to Denver, Colorado.

Not something an adult woman should be crying about
Yet here you are
Tearing up as you walk to your car on a southern spring night
Because the sky has turned the right color 
and the birds sing the right song
but it doesn’t smell the way your salt marsh grassland did
and you realize you will never have that moment again so long as you live
and it hurts
You will never get to go home again 
And that hurts.

And you knew driving by that summer would be a bad idea.
You’re about 50 meters into the back yard when a lover’s voice calls
“Taylor what are you doing?  You don’t live here anymore”
“I was checking to see how the garden looked…”
You stop, heart sunk, and process the words
 ‘you don’t live here anymore’…

This place saw your first steps
First words
First love
First solo ride on a two wheel bike
Here your fingers discovered the catharsis of 88 keys
and spent countless hours holding the flashlight as dad worked on engines
And now you’re trespassing?

Do the new owners even know there’s a pink butterfly sticker stuck to the underside of an upstairs floor vent that you put there when you were 10?

Jellyfish, sparrows, dandelion seeds…
Some of the most beautiful things spend their lives hovering

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Louisiana Words Remembers Jorge Arturo

There’s nothing that hurts more than when we lose someone from our Louisiana Words family. But, the beauty of our writing movement is that the words of our loved ones live on with us. On June 20th, 2023, Louisiana Words Allstar, Jorge Arturo, moved on from this world leaving our hearts broken. He was a charismatic and talented human being. Jorge resided in New Orleans, LA and had been active on Louisiana Words for over a year. To honor Jorge’s life and work, we will be sharing his writing and live performances all Summer 2023. Please help keep his spirit alive by sharing his work. We know that Jorge’s words will connect with our readers and we hope to keep his spirit alive. Jorge’s first submission: “The Dog Show” debuted on February 6th, 2022 and is his most successful piece to date. In 2022, Jorge spent 10 weeks in the top with “The Dog Show,” “Weavers,” “They Say Love Kills, This Time It Really Did,” and “If Hell is Real, It Looks Like an Airport.” His last piece was “Fairy Tale

Fairy Tales Can Kiss My Ass (Jorge Arturo - New Orleans, LA)

You were so certain when you got tucked into bed every night that the fairy tale stories rocking you to sleep would be waiting around the corner; waiting to cradle you in their ancient hands and see you through to your happy ending. And it was a naïve smile that learned to settle on your lips as you watched pieces of that magical story get chiseled away, and reshaped, and often even annihilated by the road put out in front of you. So maybe the mother didn’t survive. Maybe the father was too preoccupied with his own grief to remember the teary-eyed child begging him for for safety. Maybe you didn’t grow up beautiful. Maybe you didn’t grow up strong. Maybe when you sang songs they were out of pitch, and no forest critters came soaring to your aid. But, if nothing else, the fairy tale promised romance, you assured yourself – a savior atop a white steed who braved through the tragedy and saw someone worth saving on the other side of it. And you were so desperat

The Man Under the Water (TK Craft - New Orleans, LA)

Sitting at the edge of the small motorboat, Jordan willed himself to take deep slow breaths. Every time he opened his eyes and looked out at the endless water; panic began to overcome him. Against the vastness of the ocean his small frame felt like almost nothing, this sense only made his fear grow worse. All he could do was stare out at the still surface for what felt like hours trying to gather the strength to jump into the depths. When he was fifteen, Jordan almost drowned in the ocean. He hadn’t been particularly frightened of the water till that day. In fact, he had no real emotional connection to it at all. He’d taken swimming lessons every summer so when the riptide carried him further out to sea he didn’t panic. He just reoriented himself to the shore and dove down to begin a swim towards land. That’s when he saw him glistening in the depths. Jordan was proud of himself for sitting on the edge of the boat as long as he did. He spent the

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