Galveston, to de Vaca the island
of bad fate, sat quiet in September,
awaiting Fall, while upon the mainland
weathermen held their reports. Remember
that fateful day when Isaac’s storm was brewed
in the Gulf, and no warnings were given
in paternalistic ineptitude,
leaving the islanders alone, driven
suddenly into their homes to await
the rising surge, praying the candlelight
would last, and that God would spare them the fate
of perishing that warm September night.
Think of the weathermen who just wanted
to halt panic, and how they were haunted.
god america i 