Low-Stakes Evidence

The sky is the color of a bruised knee,

and the rain is coming to sweep the street clean.

The kids have all gone back inside for their tea,

leaving behind a bright-pink scene.

There’s a girl in yellow, or what’s left of her shape,

holding a balloon that looks like a pear.

She’s frozen mid-run in a sidewalk escape,

suspended in dust and the humid air.

I saw a blue handprint on the side of the mart,

right where a man might lean for a rest.

It’s a clumsy and temporary kind of art,

the ghost of a heart beat against a chest.