to fix a monarch's broken wing.
From soft-wide eyes, her smile flies
questions deep and deepening.
She is a woman who always clocks
tears dropped, unless her schnauzer's sick;
the woman who grabs his keys, clicks the locks,
and shouts, We're Out! I'm driving stick!
To me, she gave the charred blue Hudson,
its soft body, where water taxis sway
past the battled Bronx, where children
box with life and (on grassed islands) play.
Copyright Xiomara A. Maldonado 2011