The leftover pieces of chalk
she used on street corners
to draw faces she saw looking up
at women in high heels
waiting for stop lights to change
were lipstick shades,
eyes left blank and outlined
in mascara blues
On a sunny day she left her drawings
on every corner she crossed
on her way to somewhere
until the nubs of chalk she used
crumbled into powders marbling
her little girl hands
She drew in quick hard slashes
with a kind of fury
that caused her subjects
to step back and wonder
if something was wrong,
where she lived and went to school
and should they make a call
Just a latch key kid, they figured,
who never looked up twice
once she started and never
answered back except to say,
“Fine”