She was throttled and hung

when hope died

for the second time.

No one stayed around for her

resurrection, no one

watched her catch a crow mid

flight, stick two fingers down

its throat and pop her eyeball

out of its broken beak.

Last I heard she moved

into an alley off Capitol Street.

She feeds the stray cats slightly

green slices off her right

arm and passes out cigarettes

to the working girls.