She touched her round organic limb
again, under the boardwalk, as the
harrowing strains of the Marsalis quintuplets
shook dust from the cracks and dimpled
in quivering stationary rings
the surfaces of tidal pools.
Yes, it was her karma to love the one woman
worthy of her attention.
The needle was her benediction,
alcohol lamp her matron of honor,
and by the time she emerged
in the bloody sunset
she was gravid with her child.
Oh God! She was perfection,
casting into the city her thousand
hungry eyes and ears and digesting
our emotions to feed her future.
She never forgot where she came from
even when the city became a brittle husk.