walked the busy street
       she did and it was
sailing in a distorted world
       grey city vision blurred
feeling -not seeing- only adversity
had come to meet her
                       at the crossing
to tell her a lie
about its soused nature

vulture of hope,
greedy for visible
and hidden beauty
rapine its sole survival
in the cold of this confined
          place
(lost in its infinite smallness)

          disruption written in the mud
between cobblestones
in a city with no horizon
and yet, yet, she sensed…
sound other than tired traffic
and tension of unsatisfied spirits
in disguise…
that sudden air
that fluttering and tapping
that took her away
that brought her back
to herself – that pounding
usually so silent – that symbol –
-- icon of soul and feeling

          and she could get away
       from the sneaky presence
     then come, come to herself
    while dusky rain from
     starved sky, empty grey abyss
      fell
          she could
                       tiptoe and hear
                            its uncovering for recovery
                                  and walk on, at first
                                    surprised to hear it
                                     in the noisy street  
                                    then, enraptured to feel it:
                                  the distinct healing
                            of a ruptured myocardium         

                                                                                                    .