Where she lived the onyx night was cracked open by gunfire and the sillowhette of her sister’s head shaking, ‘no, no, no’.
Where she lived the music told secrets in a code of perfect percussion and crept into the outside of small houses that had no windowpanes
Where she lived the DJ played while the deal was made and her brother nodded his head to the new song, ‘yes, yes, yes’
Tongues of men tripped drunk on sticky phrases to call out to her where she lived Saying, “come, come here, come here”
The heat of the sun bent the policemen’s pistol to aim down below, where she lived And she knelt lower still So she lived to conjur up demons that one day would work on her behalf
And the trigger itched And the soles of sandals smacked dances And the rhythm was fierce And the concrete staircase had 120 steps
But she lived to prohesize about the world’s end to her grandchildren who watched the black sky bleed and made up their own stories about how one day everything where they lived would be different