Listen, gentle—
but the block ain’t soft,
corners cough chrome lullabies,
mamas rock red eyes to sleep.
I’m stitching storm clouds into hymnals,
letting thunder cuss in the choir—
every amen got a ankle monitor,
every hallelujah overdosed on hope.
Still I lift this cracked crown,
pour Lilac rage into offering plates,
pray the asphalt remember my name
when the sirens finally hush.