2 Poems by Katarina Boudreaux

The Crown I Wore

I prayed for miracles
then, moveable altar
carried with me.

But the cancer set
like leavened bread
rises unwatched
when left to rest.

Now that she’s dead,
I’ve resorted to
small tokens of luck.

Fava beans, two
dollar bills line
my pockets.

In late hours,
I find the altar
still follows me.

I pray now
not for recovery,
but forgiveness
for praying so long.


“Origins” image by Flickr user BellaCavella

Geese in Winter

Second summer came,
and much like the first,
there was no word from you.

I expected none
by the third, but when
the birds arrived in
the fourth, I heard your
missive clearly.

It was crafted beautifully,
words of less air and
more sound, but since
it came rain bound,
I couldn’t remember
the specifics when
I looked away.

The tide rolled out
in silky smooth, and
I stayed to watch the
seaweed bake.

Time passed,
and the geese
came and stayed
for the winter.

One of them had
your eyes.

IMG_5047-2Katarina Boudreaux is a writer, musician, composer, tango dancer, and teacher – a shaper of word, sound, and mind. She recently returned to New Orleans after residing in Texas, Connecticut, and New York. New work is forthcoming in Synaesthesia Magazine, Epigraph Magazine, and the Dirty Press. Heartbreak: The Biological Musical will premiere in the NOLA Faux/Real festival in the fall. For more, visit www.katarinaboudreaux.com.