She choked in froth
her lips a blood laced origami
words spread in red threads
bubbling as she breathed
a poetry so pure, so true it flowed:
“Dammit, dammit, God…”
Almost in rhyme, a rhythm
of hate, of fists and teeth
carving her mouth, as lips whispered
“Help me, help me, God help me.”
Bent, dizzy, beginning to slump
she sat/fell onto the curb.

Rainbows exploded beneath her
as she dripped into the oily gutter
worlds spun, buildings spun
people gathered in a jagged circle
“What happened?” “Girl got mugged.”
“Boyfriend?” “Slipped off down some alley.”
It echoed, echoed and flowed around her:
the word, once, twice, how many times?
“Bitch,”
as he punched… pummeled her.

Morning died in each gasping breath
as she faded gray, then blue
her eyes closed, the tears wrung
from torn, tufted pillows streaked
in mascara, shadow and salt
flashing red to distant horns, sirens.

Choking faces, eyes, in long thin tubes
a burning black, bagged breath, counting
pressure, faint voices. Calm, then silence.

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