Street Woman

Street Woman

she sneaks between the joints

she moves between the cracks

she jumps over the lines

she sniffs, she breathes the sliced clarity of this reality

she pushes through the dark alleys

always on the prowl

always on the lookout

looking forward and ahead

through the glimmer of oil-spills

she sees the ancestors of the streets

through the cracks in the pavements

she smells the verdant memory of forsaken forests
she is the street woman
her soul feels the rhythm of the unrest

her loins beat with the pulse of the shifting tar

she sneaks between the joints

she moves between the cracks

she jumps over the lines

through dark pools she walks

and still she sees what is over there

in her lies
the wildness
and
the innocence

call her child

call her witch

call her the free roamin' bitch

like a feral cat

she weaves her way through dark and light

sometimes seeing, sometimes blind

she winds her tread over the uncertainties of skin and mind

stitching together the scattered remnants of ecstasy still found

in the pristine crevices of the heart