Isla Valentina Kane

(Age 5 years, 11 months, 3 days)

I shouldn’t be up. The city’s melody resumes once more.

It hums within the walls while everyone believes I’m asleep.

It whistles through the pipes whenever Tío Marco assumes I’m drawing.

It hums within the crayon whenever I sketch my maps.

This evening the noise is greater, than before.

I sit upright in bed the plump bodega cat curled beneath my chin. My room is dim except for the night-light Mamá crafted from melted subway ...