HONORABLE MENTION
SMALL ORANGE EMERGING WOMAN POET HONOR 2022

After a Mardi Gras Day

When winter’s lingering memories reemerge

From air too eager to discard its chill,

Along the river flirting with the fog

You’ll hear a silence clinging to the breeze.

When beads are left to whisper in the trees,

Like Spanish moss or a streetcar’s fading roar,

Around St. Charles and down on Magazine,

You’ll watch tired tourists walking off the haze.

When starlight fades to ashes on our heads

Left over from the Mass in Jackson Square

As locals take the Host and cross themselves,

You’ll catch a whiff of morning chicory steam.

I hope you won’t forget the day we danced

Along the balcony over Frenchmen Street—

When losing track of beers was easier

Than keeping up with Longhair’s whistling riffs.

I hope that you’ll remember how you saw

A side you didn’t know I had in me.

It only shines where living comes so hard

That only Dr. John can make it sing.

I hope that when you hear a lone horn scream

Along the alley strewn with paper saints,

After the Mass is ended—or begun—

You’ll take a holy card and pray for me.

Casie Dodd lives in Arkansas with her husband and two children. Her writing has appeared in Fare Forward, Ekstasis, Front Porch Republic, and other journals. She is the Founder and Editor of Belle Point Press, a new small press celebrating the literary culture of the American Mid-South. Find her on Twitter @CasieDodd.