Le ciel est, par-dessus le toit       

                                               the windows here

           whiten in increments

there is no emptiness


                                                    only a silence that does not go in reverse

            I want to say I will be there     to collect your tears

after all, I am not Sister Prejean

                             
                                                  no one here for urinating in public

              tell me a woman’s hand will moisten your lips

                   7 a.m., the white ladies already out on soul patrol