The leaf bud struggles forth
toward the wet concrete of Spanish Town Rd.
This is faith.
This light green offering,
it reaches up past multicolored beads
flooding the pavement, rolling around wet
so many broken jewels.
Four houses away we stumble onto people
who thought they could hold their drink.
Drink and be merry.
I have written so many words
wanting to be part of you,
to be of use to you,
now I must write for myself.
For this drunk girl holding herself up
with her wand of thought.
This sauced broad slipping on beaded streets,
reaching out for blurry friends
leaning on what once was stable and infinitely beautiful.
I look at my hands
see they are empty.
I look at the street
see the leaf bud inching towards life.
I look at my face in the beads and see a half born woman.