She has tender dirt upon her fortitude,

I wonder if she's forgiven herself yet...



Push your grief, shopping-cart lady

carry your health in head-lights

island of hide and highways,

I loud-speak in a single look

you're someone's mother, sister, child

a sorrow-go-round ride

in blankets that have not seen

Gain or Tide

push your millions

pop cans, wine bottles,

tin / glass monies

carry that dynamic dust

each piece a street

each spot someone's ungiving grunt

each step in a nowhere hunt...



She has museums in her silence

I wonder if her love has hues of contradictions...



Push on, you ribald mule!

carry on in your refugee stink,

sandpaper sandals and scarlet scars

scabs that slow speak

each winter and Valentine,

to think you're someone's mother, sister, child

sorrow-goes-round

village-wild

your stubborn pride far from mild



Float on, shopping-cart lady

stay in each hair-pin hour

in this bankrupt ballet

is this a way to live...?

Your hunched shadow

has no voice, no answers to give...



She has blossoms and duty in her hands,

I wonder if fate partners her dance...

pushing that cart, this life by chance



she's someone's

mother, sister, child

a woman who's homeless

no choice for the wild.