Notes Of Cajun Poem by Fred Rik Kesner

'notes of cajun'


I coughed cajun into my hands—
heat, smoke, a memory

that won't stay quiet.
It startled me, sitting there,
bright as something carried too long.

It stung enough to feel like truth.
Perhaps too old to live-in,
something I hadn't meant to bring up.

When it slid across my palms,
the lines blurred, then vanished—
as if the past had taken a blade
to the future I thought I knew.

I watched the skin go pale.
Not clean—just changed.

And for a moment,
I wasn't sure who I was becoming,
only that the heat had already begun
to rewrite me.






.