The buzz of a fleeting shape floats past
all shadow, inward, searching through
dark cafe windows. Home at last
she starts to shape her heart into
a mold unbreakable and clean
from bits of plastic. She'll make do.
She's been this way since age fourteen,
Outside a shiver, blaze within.
It's lose or lose, a pound, a love,
a chance to live,
a fleeing dove
a chance to catch a falling book
with pages blank with promised light,
a chance to turn the gaping looks,
a chance to live, to make things right.