Tonight

by Justin Lacour

TONIGHT

At the Lebanon Café, someone writes on the paper towel dispenser:

“Free Jesuit diploma – limit one per customer,”

while on the street, “Rivers of Babylon”

leaks out of one bar, hair metal out of another;

as if they’re having a conversation.

A gray bird darts under I-10 above the tents of the homeless

as a man balances on a skateboard, clutching two dozen roses.

A slight breeze through my hair, like sanity returning.

I know sanity is seeing Your love through all these things.

I know the mind is a jewel until it breaks apart.

But if You want a flower to bloom, it will bloom

Even in the outer darkness.  

Yes. 

Even here.

JUSTIN LACOUR

Justin Lacour lives in New Orleans with his wife and three children.

IG: justinbrandon_puppets