it rained without warning
the world outside
a gray, unhappy look.

night
continued to fall.
she, telling herself
not to lose her way
that night of confusion.

wind had began again.
whipping in eaves
above her head.

a man’s voice sounded
at her shoulders.

all at once,
alone with the world.
this man---
wildly against her.

her ruffles wet and wilted,
she turned to him

fallen.

(words from Kerima Polotan’s “The ******”)