by Casey Jo Holman
A pecan grove grows low and quiet by the side of the highway,
the first thing we see
once we leave the lower nine.
He drives 45, and a line of cars starts to trail behind us,
passively irritated on the two-lane interstate.
He pulls over, lets them pass—the pickups and vans and old, old sedans.
Pecan trees are surprisingly small things.
On the edge of the grove, close to the highway he points out blackened steps.
the concrete is almost too hot, from years alone in the Louisiana sun,
worn down by time and mold and so much water.
Wildflowers spring up everywhere around the foundations,
delicate lilacs and tiny yellow spots of sun.
he picks one of both, hands them to me.
These were houses, before the storm.
At once, I know we aren’t looking at pecan trees.
they’re ghost stories, emotional scars
born by the uprooted people who once grew here.
Casey Jo Holman works waiting tables in New Orleans, Louisiana to support her writing habit. She is a 2014 alumna of California State University, Long Beach. Her work has previously appeared in Shot Glass Journal, Nerve Cowboy, Cadence Collective, Verdad Magazine and a collection of chapbooks produced by Bank-Heavy Press.
Belle Rêve Literary Journal is a southern literary experience. Our mission is to capture everything that makes the South and its residents unique through the best contemporary literature we can find. We publish new works weekly.
Books by the Editors
Passionately Ran, Compassionately Fed.