Nemo Dat

She

Smelled of Onion

& Slaughter Houses

Soot & Ash

In Her greasy Hair

Aware

& incensed

Secure

But bearing

Crippling Thoughts

Too Close

For the Good

Of Anyone

She turned the Corner

Passing Pawn Shops, Hawkers & Hustlers

Cutting a Wake of Sheer Humanity

An Explosion

Fit for a Hillside

Fit for a Train