Hawk eyes survey a cobbled square, teeming with tamed shadows.
Café noir in manicured hands, harsh rays from a cumbersome sun
fall upon her cobra-skinned boots. She shields indigo eyelids with
bejeweled twigs, blocking out far-off orchards with all her might.
Expectant limbs howl out her name; their sickly offspring are her
birthmark. Invisible to the passing eye, they have marked her for
life.