Damen

 

 

On the corner there is a woman singing about nightmares no one has ever had

singing about nightmares no has ever had.


In another time, she would be a griot

speaking of dawns that make up for the nights before.


Today Chicago is hot.

Each body moves past never hearing her.


The heat is sticky like blood

dried between the crevices of your fingers.


Children are playing in the yard

where the flowers have begun to grow again.


Music is flowing from a stoop

just far enough to miss.


On the corner there is a woman

singing about nightmares no one has ever had.


Today Chicago is hot.