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.