Are watermarks a necessary evil?
Mercy is the hooded sweatshirt,
stylized metallic, the cat yawning
in the bay window, a cityscape
dropped through squinting eyelids,
a shoe no longer waterproof.

The city is capital; capricious,
and the sweet jesus freaks
overwhelmed by the curve of a

Capricornia, the brick walls,
faded black and white portraits
of ancestors on the walls, her
lovers asking for explanations,
a secret old enough to be her
great-grandfather revealed
via birth certificate and quixotic
notes of flippancy, an old women
in the south awaiting explanations
like a girl awaits a first kiss,

a hand cartwheeling into a wave.

Cheeks watermarked, tears a
stain, a necessary evil for a