Immigrant Bucket
cobalt eyes, darts of a flycatcherno one stops her on the street, as if
she's deaf to human vowels, she's
no more than a barn owl or sparrow
salt-urban days churn mosquito-black
she lowers her face, doesn't raise it
to look around. 'invisible Carla' she whispers
no...I won't go back to the shelter
strange voices fill her head
thrasher noises and mean grown ups
startled wings and sharp beaks caw
and echo, the bucket covers her ears
at night these things she knows
stepping backward, lights grow small
nested against a wooden fence
no one sees her under the box
Carla pinches herself one last time
pulls the cardboard over her body
darkness fills the bucket
this is where dead people go
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