Her quick undulations slice halos of
	illumination, forcing rays to rest
	in the shadowed valley beneath each curve.
	The limelight pools in her womanly nest.
	This girl, with flesh sooner femme than child, moves
	in a manner akin to goddesses
	and whores. Each provocative gesture proves
	her more woman than woman possesses.
	High priestess of scarred holy ground, she pulls
	power from the rhythm that emanates
	from darkened halls in these urban temples
	of Gotham souls. Young sacrifice, she waits
	for a sound unique and everlasting:
	the low even beat of an angel's wing.