Night is glacial.
Behind the cart,
A solitary mouse
Squeals and stops.
A mendicant woman,
The porous drape
Gliding off her
Heavy shoulders,
In stillness
Sloshed by the chill,
Mourns for her child,
Mowed down
At his late play,
And her murky hair
Shawls her swollen eyes.
The traffic is operational
Above and a black dog
Licks a bone beside her.