A woman runs along city rooftops holding her hat

She flits past blackened angels,
chimneys higher than houses,
walls heavy with wealth.

She holds a soft hat to her head,
the coat fantails behind.
She flies blithely by
grinning stone, blind eyes,  
until she comes to the iron railing,
the awful drop to the street.
 
She swerves like a gull,
jubilant above the hissing day. 

Published in Census, The Third Seven Towers Anthology  (Seven Towers Agency, 2012)