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Jesslynn was a girl who had never believed in fairies. Or Santa. Or genies. Or happy endings. At 13 she had already seen too much of the real world to pretend anything good or beautiful or lucky lay beyond the cesspool that was her life.

Certainly not everything was bad.  Breath still flowed in and out.  A heart still beat.  She was not dumb or ill enough to believe she was better off dead.  Though her father had failed her and her mother betrayed her, though house was not home, and safe was not certain, a glimmer of hope still existed.  Leaving town would only be the beginning of a new life.  She was certain the road would be smoother once she was in the driver's seat.

Mary

Down the block
In front of the church
Mary stands in a bed of flowers
Not so tall, but certainly stoic
Our Lady of El Barrio.

There is a woman who comes
often, to stand in front of her.
So casually leaning
So adoringly gazing
upward at her face.

What does she ask for?
What does she wish?
Has her faith been tested, revived, renewed?
What blessing will be bestowed?
What peace given?

That a bosom so hard, so unyielding, so exposed
Should provide such comfort
Puts us all to shame.

Here is a revision I did for Poetry Class, playing around with the line breaks:

Madre

Down the block, in front of the church
Mary stands in a bed of flowers.
Not so tall, but certainly stoic.
Our Lady of El Barrio.

There is a woman who comes often
to stand in front of her, hands clasped.
So casually leaning, so adoringly gazing,
upward at her face.

What does she ask for, what does she
wish? Has her faith been tested, revived,
renewed? What blessing will be
bestowed? What peace given?

That a bosom so hard, so unyielding, so exposed
should provide such comfort
is a wonderous thing
indeed.