Poetry | The Street Maiden

The Street Maiden whistles  lone hollow notes as rain spears at Her grey skin and slips  from long, iron nails as the three-legged hound and tailless cat trail  after Her frosted tunes (hear, Her tune) (here, Her tune) cracked crab claws  tossed from roadside stalls clatter  against crown caps to the drains that gurgle and… Continue reading Poetry | The Street Maiden