Through a shop window, I watch a man
strip a mannequin
down to her fiberglass shell.
He coaxes a silk blouse
from her unyielding torso.
Once,
I used to see God
in the way
headlights flashed
along a rain-soaked street.
Now I go God-hungry,
passing under cathedrals of scaffolding
to venture out
into the city’s great alone.
The moon rises,
lonely as a bride,
stealing down
to the kitchen
on her wedding night.
She halves an Oreo,
licks out the inside.
Women get erased all the time.
