in my dreams, on mardi gras, we dig everyone has their favorite spots a hideaway below a royal street boutique the big stretch of abused boneyard under the overpass the grand mud run on st. charles we still wear our best clothes and start early in the morning bands still blow horns on the streets we kiss each other’s dusty cheeks, brush feathers from eyes, invite each other in for red beans but also, we dig glass beads, dirt-smudged stuffed animals, confetti from years past reaching through sand, wanting to be found, to be touched, held, again honestly, it’s never occurred to me to ask anyone what are we looking for? i don’t ask why we kiss and share rich foods, we touch each other’s faces, our hugs more intimate instead of a light touch on your shoulder it’s fingers on your rib every carnival we relive a bit of who we have been and so on tuesday faithfully, dreamily, we dig
Cate Root comes from a big Irish Catholic family in Kansas City. She graduated from New York University with a B.A. in Journalism and Mass Communication in 2005, and the next year, for no good reason, moved to New Orleans. She earned her M.F.A. in Creative Writing from the University of New Orleans in 2012. Cate helped to run Dogfish, a popular reading series in New Orleans, from 2015 to 2020. Her writing has recently appeared in Current Affairs, Catapult, Antenna’s Room 220, and Infection House. She’s around the internet as @cateroot.