If you look to the left, you’ll see the Big Easy— a green body sprawling 30,000 feet below. It’s where ocean meets sky, where water spoons its longshore decks and rippling iron gates. When the city whistles, rain stipples its lips. It doesn’t care whom it sprays. More rebel than Satan in his leather jacket, the city isn’t a heartbreaker, offering the whole of itself, water and all, a perfect lover, through sassafras, stoplights, and levees. Through the window you see the city’s alchemy—unzipping like the side of Christ—oil and water and blood, which aren’t so different to its sinking tenants.

DERRICK AUSTIN is an undergraduate at the University of Tampa. His poetry has appeared in Relief: A Christian Literary Expression, receiving an Editor’s Choice for Poetry, The Sigma Tau Delta Rectangle, Ganymede, and Poets for Living Waters.