as shackles around ankles
spotted with years,
and her muslin coat
matches the arms of the Hudson
two blocks ahead.
her hair is now daylight’s cotton
framing a face once besotted with smiles
this is how one walks
when goodbye is the final word,
but she still comes here
amidst car horns and traffic.
this tangled iron garden
that resembles what time has made
of her heart
is where she goes for peace
and a lunch with the sun.
she sits among gladiolas
lets gold seep into the lines her skin bears
stretches her arms, palms outward
and with a laugh
lets time she’s lost come back to take rust
away from her in this tangled iron garden.