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"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.

.