Southeastern//Evan Tassin

Tell me the story of the ice storm in Mississippi,  

where the cars gave out along I-55. 

Consumed by winter, hope stripped bare from

early morning coveralls.

Your mother’s house, drops of eggshell

  sliding down the brick,

I ask where your necklace is,  

You say, 

‘Across the road.’

‘In the ditch.’

‘Under your thumb.’

‘Along your gums.  

Tell me the story of the great flood 

that ate your grandfather 

and his garden.   

The flood that taught us

death is a neighbor that waves back.  

When you take the film,

place it in a darkroom

the good we knew is shot 

point-blank. 

Tell me the story  

where the chemicals clean our lungs, 

where I get out of this city with all my teeth.

Evan Tassin (he/him) is a writer born and raised in Southeastern Louisiana, currently living in Baton Rouge. He received his B.A. in History from Louisiana State University. His work has been published or is forthcoming in The River, ioche magazine, The Crawfish, and elsewhere.