Charles Town

Charles Town

Spanish moss curtains
fluttering in the wind
A gauzy layer over
the banks of the Ashley.
Down by the market
Ebony skin glistens
Sculpting a basket
of the reedy sawgrass.
The old market echoes
cries from the past
that trail a carriage
of modern day belles.
Sidewalks sizzling
Paddle fans twirling
down Meeting Street
people shuffle.
Over to St. Mary’s
with whispers from the tombs
over to Poogan’s Porch
Miss Zoey speaks.
Lazily sipping on the side porch
trying to catch the afternoon’s breeze.
Over on Queen Street
tantalizing smells waft
calling your name.
At the end of the Battery
regal homes stand
taking notice of
all the years.
The images pieced
create the majestic.
Charles Town
your spirit will always remain.

Originally Published in Burningword Literary Journal, 2002


*May*Miami*Museums*: BOGO

You have nineteen days left to enjoy the Miami Museums at the “buy one get one free” entrance fee (say that five times quickly). The following museums are participating.

Ancient Spanish Monastery

ArtCenter/South Florida

Bakehouse Art Complex

Bass Museum of Art

Black Police Precinct & Courthouse Museum

Coral Gables Museum

Gold Coast Railroad Museum

The Haitian Heritage Museum

Historic Old Town Hall Museum


Holocaust Memorial

Institute of Contemporary Art Miami

Jewish Museum of Florida — FIU

Little Haiti Cultural Center

Lowe Art Museum, University of Miami

MDC Museum of Art + Design 

Miami Children’s Museum

Miami Auto Museum at the Dezer Collection

MOCA — Museum of Contemorary Art

Patricia & Phillip Frost Art Museum-FIU

Patricia & Phillip Frost Museum of Science

Perez Art Museum Miami (PAMM)

Vizcaya Museum & Gardens

Wings Over Miami Air Museum

The Wolfsonian—FIU

The Unnamed Storm of 1926

Sissy liked to draw pictures, flip the pages

for homemade movies.

The night of the hurricane, Little Bit screamed

her shoulders into the world. The eye’s eclipse found

Sissy mothering, emptying pots and pans of hurricane.

Gators dug into the swamps, snapped at wind, and burrowed

sunken logs. Only the ibis and Sissy kept watch as waters

rushed the stoop, then cut an island out of the homestead.

Daddy was gone. He paddled streets to see the remnants

of Moore Haven; someone else’s destruction. His exits

always involved broken containers and bitter waters.

The storm passed and the water receded. Most nights

Sissy watched her movies in the shack on the bend

of the Okeechobee. Viewed the same picture again and again,

the same raging storm.

From The Sister Series-2008

Pudding House Chapbook Series

Carol Parris Krauss