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,