by dm gillis

she is a gangster in an alley, a
public enemy
with her lovers dead around her
and her hot .45
melting a Smith & Wesson hole
into the dark
hear it drip like a glacier
onto the cobble and pool
and when she looks
watch it drink her in
with all of the Gurus and UFOs
the nights that have tapped at her window
Grecian pillars and the subways of man
children on doorsteps
in their eager pose
the power grids of cities and the
Taj Mahal

there are footsteps in the Noir
and rage in the stairwells