she’s falling away from herself
like an outgoing breath
carrying an eyelash in her purse
her ready change for an ask

small windows betray what’s been felt
when the right meets the left
querying a rehash in the room
where nothing fears of the past

she’s mauling intent to begin
a romantic reset
hovering with bees in their hive
a queenly regard for her sins

she’s on a street corner
forever a loner
armed for the wars
madness is born for

she’s fond of old captains
replacing the mourners
dump them in seas
sailed on by coroners

she’s falling away from herself
shoves her trash to the curb
with discouraging words
meant to be buried in ancient tombs

nothing is fearful past
when death moves to the curb
like a cyclone at last
and not a cruel word was heard
she’s on a street corner
forever a loner
armed for the wars
madness is born for

nyc 9.18.2