NOTHING LEFT STANDING BUT VAMPIRES

                                                                                                                                                                                      

                                                                                                                    

Nothing Left Standing But Vampires

I walk down the boulevard in old New Orleans

In my designer black high heels and my little black dress

Tripping on cobblestones and grabbing for lamp posts

That are no longer there

Looking for houses and landmarks and history

That have stood for ages against wind and rain and fire

But they are no more

They are memories washed out to sea..........

I stand underneath a tree that has survived

And I marvel at it's tenacity; I caress the limbs and

Branches with their pitiful leaves reaching out to me

With human like gestures and I hear them whispering

In pleading voice "Why?"

And I shrug and hang my head and cold tears run down

My face and fall upon the broken ground...........

My birth place is a junkyard now

Not a trace left of the wide verandas and hanging ferns

White wicker furniture and fountains sparkling in the sun

Just pieces of glass lying there reflecting my sorrowed face

In a pool of water not fit to touch the earth

I walk in silence down streets that don't exist

Through gardens that have no fruit or flower

In this shattered city that has drowned in jazz and

A hurricane's embrace................

Ghost ships pull into the port and disappear in mists of smoke

And fog, dispensing cargoes to the ghosts who run to catch them

And then, they too, disappear, their voices crying out and

Trailing off in winding wails of woe and homelessness

The golden sun falls now into fiery red and still I walk

And still I look and search for remnants of the home I cherished

And the parish I played in and the city I loved................

It's so silent now I can hear my heart beating in my breast

My tears have dried and have emptied their reservoir

I can cry no more

Darkness comes and covers me in it's blanket of warm, black ink

I put my arms around me and hug myself in desperation

A comfortless gesture, and as my eyes adjust, I walk on as the moon

Comes up shining over the scattered landscape

A breath of wind blows softly behind me and touches me with friendly

Hands and I sigh in gratitude and turn.................

And as I turn, I catch the outline of a form in black standing there

Among the shadows

On the remnant of a balcony with it's white hand upon the rail

For a moment the figure doesn't move, it's head bowed in silent

Sorrow and it's tears glittering in the moonlight

Then he raises his sad face towards me and our eyes meet 

In the still pale light and in sweetness 

Only two grieving hearts can share...............

He nods and moves so I can see the useless dagger 

He holds to his own throat in voiceless agony 

But he cannot die, he can never die, not even of grief 

And I nod and raise my hand in greeting and he returns in kind

For long agonizing seconds we stand there still as death, longing to

Run to hold one another but do not move and do not move

And do not move, our feet frozen in icy grip of traumatized despair...........

And then, with one last long look, I turn to go and leave the figure

Standing there in his crumbling mansion watching me as my high heels

Click on pavement, rock and shards of glass

As the sun comes up, I find my destination 

And slip in between the twisted gated fence 

And search the rows of granite that are standing

Some are not and some are gone but one stands there resolutely

Against the sky, it's angels flying merrily in gray relief 

And it's resident's name carved there for all to see and wonder at..........

I run my fingers over the angels' faces 

And press a kiss into my hand and blow it into the wind

Then looking forlornly at my broken city washed clean and desolate

In the morning, I slip into the grave to sleep

Not resting, never resting now but tossing back and forth

In bitter search of peace..........

I slip off my high heeled shoes 

And see that my feet are cut and bruised and bleeding 

And I smile

Feeling somehow, alive

The only thing living in New Orleans.

©by Voo

September 5, 2005

2 p.m.

 My Vampire Heart by Tom McRae

Voo and Mark the vampire

thanks, Mark, man of 1000 faces