THREE GROTESQUES
STREET-WALKER
The girl who was sure she'd been murdered for love (or as near as damn it) walked the black-laquered street. She wished for closer identity with her feet, but retained the sense she had been here before.
Were those her tears aloft within the lamps? The wet leaves stuffed her heart and this was just as well : for there seemed localised the thrust. Was that her blood among the pavement-damps?
Her ghost with powerful rubbery strides went through the shine of night which so had lost its grip on facts, that flesh and cars were all aslip. Her archetypes were statues firm and true.
She smiled to think that having thus her heart immortalised and with particular knife done universal crime upon her life, her lover slept consummate in his art.
KATHLEEN NOW
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