Through hypodermics, feces, broken glass
She picks her way, arms crossed on breasts, head down,
No lap-top, books or pencil -- and no class --
From locked-down school to project, won't look 'round.
The War Zone robs her dollies, roses, stars;
Corrodes the satin cheek; defiles the eye.
She's all concrete, chain link, pad locks and bars.
It's lie and lay and lye and dye and die.
Low riders pass; they slow; elbows probe out
Of rolled-down, darkened windows; mufflers purr.
"Yo, ho! Gimme dat booty!" demons shout.
At twelve-year-old girl body, not at her.
Lift ev'ry voice, and sing a sacred prayer
For post natal abortion, walking there.
http://rriverstone.com/poetry/cleopatra.html
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