by Anne Gardner
A narrative stands behind the woman
Street-sweeping at two in the morning
She wears it plainly as a shadow
She began in an exposition of force
Screaming out between knees bent
A fluid rush and cut
Raised in a fifth-floor walk-up
A hyphenated existence
Part one thing – part something else
Thought-bubble dreams
Percolated through a coffee haze
Of late-night diners
What now but push and broom
A shadow foreshadowed
By a breaking day
A narrative lies as narratives do
As lies the woman
Of the broken day