Measure time in passing
Streetcars, their clatter a sign
Of something looming.
The unadorned pillar—barely remembered,
Once revered—and the woman
Who seeks change and a prayer
And tells us, you’re sweet.
Find me tomorrow
On the corner of Royal and Canal,
She says, before you leave. Find me
Through the overgrown branches,
Through the pale green jalousies
Offset by peeling plaster—
These hiding places encase us
In life, the marble tombs
In the afterlife. One stood open,
Its emptiness inviting. Step into
This moss-grown space, damp
With the threat of a storm.
Lift your head from your pages
And watch rain embrace the rooftop
Opposite. Watch as it creates
A mirror for itself.