the flora etched walls
fall against cotton skin;
scantily-clad brick.
her fingers lace
into the broken sticks
[that prick her digits].
and bloody tokens
smear the leaves.
clumsy feet trip
on the rips in concrete.
[watch the cracks.]
she once broke
her mother's back;
just another mistake.
she can only stare
at the tears in flannel,
that lines her back.
those forgotten signs.
the odds are stacked [against her].




6 old applause
